


A Dangerous Game

by LadyBelleBaelish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, royal family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBelleBaelish/pseuds/LadyBelleBaelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight members of the royal family have dropped dead in the last two years. Willas Tyrell and his partner are positive its the work of Petyr Baelish. They just have to prove it. Who better to help them them than the man's own wife? Meanwhile Sansa Stark has an agenda of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Everyone knew Joffery Baratheon had been murdered. Everyone knew someone had poisoned his wine, at his own wedding no less, but no one cared. The police had, of course, done their job and investigated accordingly. But it had been ruled an accident. And that was that.

Until Tommen Baratheon dropped dead, followed by his sister. That was when eyebrows started to raise and questions started being asked. Myrcella’s killer was quickly identified as Ellaria Sand. For Tommen, however, no one was quite sure. Everyone had their own theory; some people say Stannis Baratheon did it for the throne. Others said it was his new wife Margaery Tyrell, though since it was an open secret how much Margaery wanted to be Queen that theory didn’t fly.

Cersei Lannister was in pieces. All of her children were dead and she wanted blood. Her father had sent her out of the country to “get some rest”. But everyone knew it was because she wouldn’t rest until Stannis Baratheon’s head was on a spike. Two months later she was found dead. Suicide. No one questioned it.

The country mourned the loss of the three young royals and their mother. Though many said Shireen Baratheon would make a much better ruler than any of her cousins. When both she and her mother were killed in a fire everyone was in shock. An assassin killed Stannis Baratheon two weeks following.

No one family could have that amount of bad luck. That was one Willas Tyrell was brought in to interrogate the rest of the family. _As discreetly as possible_ Barristan Selmy said.

Renly Baratheon insisted he would never harm a family member.

Jon Targaryen wasn’t even a suspect given his perfect white knight record. His cousin, Daenerys Targaryen hadn’t even been in the country, not to say she hadn’t hired somebody, but Willas doubted it. He considered that perhaps her husband, Jorah Mormont, was responsible, but the man didn’t seem smart enough to pull off six murders.

Renly Baratheon dropped dead and Willas was at his wits end. The public was demanding to know what was going on and Selmy was insisting he needed to make some sort of arrest.

Willas had no choice. Tyrion Lannister was arrested and awaiting a trial. The official story was that the jealous little brother killed his sister’s children for revenge. Two years prior to Joffery’s death, Cersei was supposedly behind the murder of Tyrion’s lover. Then he hadn’t been able to stop. Killing his niece and nephews had caused him to snap. The public was satisfied, Willas was not.

“Sir I don’t think Tyrion Lannister is responsible.” He insisted.

“Then who do you think is, Tyrell?”

“I-I don’t know yet! But if you just give me more time!”

“We don’t have time Tyrell! The public is satisfied with Lannister for now. If he’s innocent the trial will prove it.”

Willas fought the urge to role his eyes. “Sir, please just give me-“

“I can’t Tyrell! We’ve already made the arrest. Unless you can give me solid evidence of another suspect you’re off this case.”

Willas left Selmy’s office fuming.

“You alright Tyrell?” His partner asked from behind his newspaper when he got back to their office.

“ _No.”_ Willas snapped.

“Watch your tone or I’ll have to kick you out.” Sandor Clegane said, setting down his newspaper.

“Sorry, it’s just…Tyrion Lannister didn’t do it and I want to find who did.”

“Ah the Baratheon case.”

“ _It’s not just the Baratheon case, it’s the whole goddamn royal family.”_

“Tyrell, go home get some sleep.” Clegane said, growing bored with his partner. He picked up the newspaper again.

Willas groaned in irritation and he leaned back his chair so his head was almost upside down. “Anything besides murder in the paper today?”

“Sansa Stark got married.” He growled. Willas held back a chuckle. He was a friend of Sansa’s when he’d introduced his partner to her three years ago Clegane had been besotted since. Sansa seemed taken with him and, though he knew it was unlikely, Willas could see Sansa being happy with the man. That was, of course, before she became a ward of the Queen Mother. There was talk for a while of a match with Harold Hardyng, but he married Myranda Royce and that was that. Through the grape vine he’d heard something about Tyrion Lannister, but that was obviously off the table.

“Who to?” Willas asked, taking a sip of his partner’s coffee.

Clegane tossed the paper at him.

The title read: _Last Stark Marries Third In Line to The Throne_

The coffee was spat out onto the floor.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Suddenly Willas remembered something. Jon Arryn. He’d been on the case and they’d found his wife guilty. Willas was sure the woman had poisoned her husband, but he always felt like there had been another party involved.

“I know that face Tyrell, what are you thinking?”

A triumphant smile crossed Willas’ face. “What would you say if we could prove Petyr Baelish is behind all these murders?”

“I’d say you’re crazy, but I’ll do anything to see that bastard swing. What’s the plan?”


	2. Dear Old Friend

_Three Months Later_

“Are you ready for tonight, sweetling?” Petyr asked, coming up behind his wife and wrapping his arms around her middle. Sansa was seated at her vanity and was starting to pin her hair up.

“I still think it’s too soon to be throwing a party. Eight of your relatives are dead.” Sansa responded, leaning into him slightly.

“Yes, but,” He kissed her shoulder before continuing. “We’ve just been married and besides,” Petyr smirked. “The people need something to take their mind off all this death.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, but smiled. “And whose fault is that?”

“Shhhh, we don’t need the servants to hear and report us at this stage of the game.” Petyr kissed her neck again and his hands started to wonder. Sansa pushed him away. “We have guests to get ready for.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. “ _Later.”_ Petyr’s eyes were turning black and Sansa lightly shoved him further away so she could finish getting ready. He left grumbling.

Petyr’s mother had been a Targaryen. As youngest sister she’d never expected that she or any of her children would be near the throne. So she’d married a poor lord out of love. A series of tragedies brought the Baelish family closer to the throne than they had expected. Lord and Lady Baelish died not long after Aerys and Rhaella, leaving the young Lord Petyr to fend for himself.

When Joffery came to the throne Petyr had been ninth in line to inherit the throne. Now he was third, given neither Jon or Daenerys had any children. And, come Jon’s coronation, they never would.

~~

 

Willas was surprised that he’d received an invitation. He reasoned it was because Margaery couldn’t attend. She was still in mourning, though Willas knew his sister despised not being able to go parties and socialize.

“I hate events like this,” Clegane growled.

Willas smirked; the man did look ridiculous in a suit. He’d only agreed to come because he desperately wanted Baelish to be guilty.

The detective left his partner and looked around for Sansa. He hadn’t seen his old friend in far too long. He finally found her chatting with some people he didn’t recognize.

She’d only grown more beautiful over the years. She was wearing a pale yellow off the shoulder dress with white gloves that went past her elbows. Her fiery hair was piled onto of her head. She was smiling and laughing.

Willas made his way over to her, “Lady Baelish,” He smiled.

Sansa blinked, “Willas Tyrell? Is that really you? Oh please excuse me Lady Frey.” The other woman nodded and disappeared into the crowd. “I hardly recognized you,” Sansa continued.

“You, on the other hand, were quite easy to spot. Even as a child you always were the prettiest girl in the room.”

Sansa blushed. “You always did know how to flatter me.”

“But where is your husband? I’ve never meet Lord Baelish and now that he’s married to you I feel I must.” Willas studied his friend’s face as he spoke. As soon as he mentioned her husbands name her smile left her eyes for just a moment before returning, but it was all the answer he needed. Sansa was not happy. And come hell or high water he would do everything in his power to change that.

“Did I hear my name?” A man who must’ve been Lord Baelish appeared. He was a hair taller than his wife with tuffs of grey just above his ears in his otherwise black hair. He wore a slight smirk on his face.

“Darling, this is Willas Tyrell. An old friend of mine, and the Queen’s brother.”

“An honor, sir,” Baelish shook his hand. “I was so sorry to hear about King Tommen, I’m sure your sister was quite devastated.”

Willas knew the man was not the least bit sorry about what happened. Baelish arranged to have Tommen poisoned, just like he’d arranged Joffery and Myrcella and all the others. Willas swore to himself right then that he was going to see this man hang if it was the last thing he did.

“Thank you, milord. I appreciate your condolences.” Willas responded.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must see to my other guests. Sansa,” He motioned for his wife to come with him. She gave Willas a look as she looped her arm through Baelish’s.

Willas clenched his teeth, but suddenly a thought came to him. Would Sansa know anything about what her husband was up to? He doubted Baelish would tell her, but Sansa was a clever girl. Surely she would have noticed something, _anything_ that could indicate her husband’s guilt. He had to speak with her.

Willas found Clegane still hovering by the food table.

“I need you to distract Baelish,”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later, but trust me.”

Clegane shrugged. “Fine. For how long?”

“As long as you can give me.”

A smirk crossed his partner’s face. “It’ll get me thrown out, but it’ll give you all the time you need.”

Willas didn’t want to know. “Fine, fine, just give me five minutes before you start.” The detective worked his way around the crowd, trying to relocate Sansa. He found her a few moments later hovering in a corner Thankfully she seemed to have lost Lord Baelish.

“Sansa,” He slid next to her. “I need to speak with you.”

She gave him a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain in a minute…is there a place we could talk privately?”

Sansa gave him an odd look, but nodded. “Follow me.” She checked to make sure her husband was nowhere to be seen. Once the coast was clear she slipped out of the large room and turned down the hallway. Willas was a few feet behind her, trying to attract as little attention to them as possible.

Sansa slipped into another room, that Willas soon realized was the library.

“What do you want?” She asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Your husband is third in line to inherit the throne.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Two years ago he was ninth. Does that not strike you as odd?”

“Just what are you insinuating, Mr. Tyrell?”

“I think you know, Sansa.”

The girl made no response. She choose, instead to look down at her hands. She bit her lip before speaking. “He’s a good husband.” She whispered.

“Sansa,” Willas pleaded. “If you have any information-“

“Yes, he did it. He had them all killed. And he’s planning on killing Jon next.” The words just tumbled out of her mouth and tears began to pour down her cheeks.

Willas grasped her shoulders. “Do you have any proof?” The girl shook her head. “Can you get any?” If Sansa was willing to help him, his task would become much easier. There was no chance he would be able to snoop around the estate looking for evidence, but Baelish’s wife could go anywhere she pleased and no one would question it.

Sansa sniffed and thought for a moment. She nodded.

“How long?” He persisted.

“I-I don’t know,” Sansa managed. “He’s smart, I don’t know…”

Willas hid his disappointment. Meeting with her frequently to see what she had discovered would not be easy. But if it was his only option he would find a way. He glanced at the clock.

“I should go,” He released her and headed towards the door.

“You won’t tell him?” Sansa sounded terrified. _A good husband indeed_. Willas had known that had been a lie as soon as she said it, but somehow her voice now made it all too real.

“No, I won’t. I promise.”

~~

 

“Does it hurt?” Sansa reached up and lightly touched the cut on her husband’s cheek.

“A little,” He winced. “Who invited Sandor Clegane?”

She giggled. “I think he came with Willas.”

It was well past midnight and all their guests had gone home. Petyr was leaning against the headboard of their bed while Sansa was lying on her stomach with her back exposed and her head propped up on her arm.

“Speaking of Tyrell,” Petyr turned on his side so he was facing her. He hissed in pain, as Clegane had kicked him in the stomach as well. “How did your meeting go?”

Sansa shrugged, “Good, I think.”

“Excellent,” He smiled and reached up to cup her cheek. “My little actress.”

Sansa smirked. “Maybe it’s you I’m fooling instead of him.” Petyr let out a growl and Sansa shrieked as he rolled her onto her back.

“I’ll just have to punish you then,” He pinned her wrists above her head.

“I’m terrified,” Sansa said dryly. Petyr crushed his mouth to hers. Sansa broke her hands free and tangled them in his hair as his tongue began exploring her mouth. Petyr started to kiss down her neck as his hands went to her hips. Sansa arched her back

“ _Petyr please_ ,” She moaned. Lord Baelish was more than happy to comply.

A little while later the couple lay curled into each other. Petyr’s hand was resting on Sansa’s lower back, while her head was nestled just under his chin.

“I’m going to miss you,” She breathed.

Petyr sighed and pulled her closer, “I’ll miss you too, sweetling.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “It’s only for a little while.”

Sansa’s arm wrapped around his stomach, “I know, but I don’t like it.”

Petyr chuckled and his kissed the top of her head. “You want to be a Queen don’t you?”

“You know the answer to that,” She responded.

He smirked. “Good.”

 

 


	3. Such Pretty Lies

Sansa’s eyes fluttered open, sunlight streamed into the room. It was early, that much she could tell. The clock was on the nightstand behind her and was far too comfortable to move.

Petyr was snoring lightly next to her, arm still around her. She sat up a little and studied his face. His mouth was hanging open slightly, she smirked when she noticed a bruise on his neck. Sansa ran her fingers lightly over the scar on his chest.

Petyr hadn’t told her what he was up to right after they were married. No, she had figured it out, but instead of go to Scotland Yard and tell them what she had discovered, Sansa decided this was her best coarse for revenge. She wanted everyone who had played a part in the downfall of her family dead.

She felt a tad guilty about what she must be putting poor Margaery through, but the girl would survive. She always did. Neither Jon or Daenerys had done anything to her either, but they were obstacles and she had to get rid of them

“God you’re beautiful,” Petyr’s voice took her out of her thoughts. Sansa smiled and crawled on top of him. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you milord.”

Petyr leaned up and kissed her. “I don’t hear you complaining.” His arms wrapped around her back and he flipped their positions. Sansa’s arms wrapped around his neck, ”Well I do have other reasons for keeping you around.” She reached up and kissed him. Just as his tongue slipped into her mouth, Sansa pulled back. Petyr voiced his dissatisfaction, Sansa giggled.

“What time is it?”

He glanced at the small clock, “Ten,”

“Oh I better get up,” Sansa pushed her husband off of her and sat on the edge of the bed. Petyr was behind her, arms wrapping around her stomach.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, kissing her neck.

“Mm, yes, I am.” She leaned into him slightly. “I have to go see Willas.”

“Yes, you do have to go see Willas, but,” He kissed her shoulder again and one hand went to her breast, Sansa arched her back. “But you can do that later.” Petyr pulled her back onto the bed and pushed her lightly onto her back.

“Petyr I really-“ But she knew she was going to lose this battle

“Shh, if you go in later you can tell him I keep you chained to the bed.”

~~

 

“I’m sorry I’m late Mr. Tyrell, Mr.Cleagne, I had trouble getting away.” Sansa said, taking a seat in the detective’s office. It was midafternoon.

“Its quite alright, Lady Baelish,” Willas assured her. He had been hesitant about meeting at the station, but Sansa was insistent.

“Do you have any evidence yet?” Clegane asked bluntly.

“It’s been less than 24 hours,” Willas reminded him.

“Then why are we doing this?”

Sansa offered a weak smile. “Lord Baelish is smart, he won’t leave a paper trail if that’s what you’re after. You’re best chance, is to find his associates.”

Willas raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but I’d imagined that all who assisted him would be, well, dead.”

Sansa bit her lip, “Most of them are yes, but some he can’t touch. If you could get them to confess-“

“ _Who?”_ Clegane urged her.

“I don’t know yet.” Sansa admitted

“Then why are you wasting our time?” Clegane snapped. Sansa burst into tears and Willas shot his partner a look.

“I’m sorry, he didn’t mean-“

“You don’t understand what its like with him,” The lady sobbed. “I can barely leave the house and if I do anything out of line he-he,” She could finish and buried her face in her hands.

Willas’ eyes widened, “My lady, you’re not telling me-that is he’s not violent?” Petyr Baelish was many things, yes, but Willas could hardly see the man raising a hand to his wife. Though perhaps he was mistaken given the state Lady Baelish was in.

Sans shifted uncomfortably, her eyes fixed on her hands. “If I make him angry, he has me locked in my room for hours and then he comes in and…” Lady Baelish broke off, tears streaming, unable to continue.

“I’ll kill that bastard I swear to God,” Clegane growled.

“Lady Baelish-“

“Please don’t call me that,” Sansa whispered. “I can’t stand- that’s _his_ name.” She choked out.

“Tyrell, she can’t stay in that house anymore.”

Sansa looked up fear in her eyes. “No please, if he finds out-I can handle- _please don’t make me leave.”_

“How can he treat you this way?” Willas demanded. Sansa was silent for several moments before responding.

“He thinks I love him,” She murmured.

“Do you?” Clegane raised an eyebrow.

Sansa’s head shot up, her eyes were burning into the pair. “He helped have my father murdered,” Her voice unwavering, there was a newfound strength there. “I hate him more than anyone. I want him dead.”

~~

 

“Jon, it’s been far too long,” Daenerys went to embrace her cousin.

“Indeed it has,” Jon smiled grasping her hands. “The last time I saw you was your husband’s funeral.” Jon saw the spark leave Daenerys’ violet eyes for just a moment. “I have a new husband now, Ser Jorah is very wonderful.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Jon motioned for her to sit, which she did. The two Targaryens sat in silence for a few moments.

“I know you don’t want this, Jon.” Daenerys said quietly.

“Rhaegar was trained to be king, not me.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t be a great one,” Daenerys reached up and cupped his cheek. “You’re far kinder than Rhaegar ever was. The people will love you where they would’ve feared him.” Jon removed her hand from his cheek only to entwine it with his.

“And you would make a far better queen than me and Rhaegar combined.”

“Jon don’t,” She knew what her cousin was thinking.

“I’m not fit to be king,” He insisted.

“Yes you are, I’ll help you. You’ll be wonderful.”

He leaned in a little closer. “If I only had you by my side.”

“Jon don’t,” She pleaded, but she did not move away.

“You were supposed to marry a king,” He reminded her.

“I was supposed to marry _Rhaegar_ …but then-“

“Yes we all know about your sun and stars.” Jon leaned in so they were only a breath apart. “But he’s gone and I’m here.”

“Jorah-“

“Doesn’t have to know.” With that he kissed her and Daenerys let herself get lost in him.

~~

 

Petyr found his wife in his study curled up by the windowsill with a book in her hands. “And how did your meeting go, my dear?” He asked.

“Very well,” She said, not looking up from her book.

He smirked, “Did you tell them I keep you chained to the bed?”

“Something like that,” Sansa closed the book and crossed the room to wrap her arms around his neck. Petyr’s hands encircled her waist and leaned in closer.

“Do you have those foolish detectives eating out of your hand yet?”

Instead of responding, Sansa kissed him. His hands went to tangle in her red hair as his tongue plunged into her mouth.

 _I certainly have one fool eating out of my hand_ Sansa thought to herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the Dany and Jon just sort of happened while I was writing that section, so we'll see where that goes.  
> In case you're curious as to how the family tree exactly plays out:  
> Rhaegar and Jon are the sons of Aerys, Dany and Viserys are the children of Rhaella, there was a third brother Daeron (who was mentioned on Dany's wiki page so I went hey why not have him exist?) who didn't have any children and then there was Petyr's mom, Alayne. Savvy?


	4. Every Piece In Place

Sansa glanced to her right, Petyr was snoring lightly on his stomach, face buried in a pillow. She tried not to think about how handsome he looked with his hair messed up the way it was. She tried not to think about how wonderful his hands felt on her body.

Sansa tried to fight it, but a wave of nausea came over her. It was not an uncommon occurrence. She’d woken up many times feeling this way. She was married to the man who’d helped kill her father.

When Joffery ascended the throne, he’d declared Ned Stark a traitor and had him executed. When her brother voiced his outrage, Roose Bolton put a dagger through Robb Stark’s heart. Catelyn’s throat was slit, Arya disappeared and was presumed dead, Bran and Rickon burned in a fire. Winterfell was given to Jon Targaryen because his mother was a Stark and, _as a member of the royal family,_ Cersei felt he could be trusted _._ Sansa had truly lost everything and everyone she’d ever cared about.

The Queen Mother told her she would never become Joffery’s queen as she had been promised. No, instead she would be married off to the last man that would ever become king. Petyr Baelish. Sansa had heard the stories. About how Lord Baelish had been in love with Catelyn Tully. About how he’d challenged the much larger, much older, Brandon Stark to a duel for her hand. How Brandon had nearly killed him, but instead left a horrible scar on his chest. She despised the idea of being his wife.

She had decided that she was going to kill herself before they were married. Lord Baelish realized what she had planned and confronted her about it.

_“I’ll provide you with the poison myself if you really want to die…or you could marry me and I’ll help you take revenge on the people who killed your family.”_

_“You killed my father, Lord Baelish.” She reminded him._

_The man shrugged. “That’s true, but might I remind you that your father was a fool who was trying to undermine the king.”_

_“The king is a-“_

_“That may be so, but he’s still the king. He’s my family, wouldn’t you do anything to protect your family sweetling?”_

_“My family is dead.”_

_“Through no fault of mine, sweetling. That was entirely Cersei and her henchmen. So now tell me, do you want to die or will you marry me and take revenge for your family?”_

_“Why would you help me?”_

_“Because the best way for you to take revenge on Cersei and Joffery is to become a queen.”_

He hadn’t explained further than that, but Sansa had agreed to marry him. Once Joffery and Tommen died she had realized what he was doing.

She’d helped him plot the death of Myrcella. She’d been the one to suggest Ellaria Sand to take the fall; the woman had had a vendetta against the Lannisters since her lover, Oberyn Martell, died in a duel with Jaime Lannister. Lord Baelish had made love to her the first time the night Ellaria was arrested.

That was when Sansa’s plan came to her. She would marry him, she would help him murder his family, she would have his child, and then she would kill him.

She was sure Lord Baelish suspected her because he kept postponing the wedding.

“ _I can hardly get married while my family is dying, can I?”_

She was tempted to just kill him and be done with it. But she knew that was foolish. She needed him.

Sansa had planned on him falling in love with her. She needed him to if she was going to feel secure. _Entrance him; bewitch him,_ she told herself. She’d never felt more proud than when she succeeded. Oh he never said it, no he couldn’t risk that, but she could tell. The way his eyes twinkled when he kissed her hand. The way he smirked and smiled as she moaned underneath him.

 _Good_ she’d thought. _Now I don’t have to worried about being murdered in my sleep._

She had grown to love with game of theirs. Especially now. They were so close. Willas was proving an excellent distraction. Sandor was a different story; she had always been rather fond of him…

Petyr stirred next to her. His eyes opened slowly and he offered her a lazy smile. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

Sansa leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Nothing of importance.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was kinda short


	5. If I Loved You

“Ellaria Sand.” Sansa was once again seated across from Willas and his partner. Two weeks had passed since their first meeting.

“Ellaria Sand’s in prison.” Willas said. “I don’t-“

“Lord Baelish hired her to assassinate Myrcella. See if you can get her to talk.”

“She’s on death row, I don’t know if-“

“Well then I suggest you hurry.”

Clegane groaned. “Anyone else?”

“Someone helped with Joffery, I know that. I think Lady Melisandre may have had something to do with Renly, but I doubt she would admit to anything.”

“I must say, Lady Sansa. This is more than helpful.” Willas said with a smile.

Their meeting concluded and Clegane insisted on seeing the lady home. Willas rolled his eyes, but let him go.

He was actually rather amused by his partner’s feelings for the redhead. Sansa was a lovely girl, but she and Clegane would certainly make an odd pair. Assuming Sansa even returned his feelings. Clegane would never hurt her the way Baelish had, of that Willas was certain.

Willas shook his head; he needed to talk to Ellaria Sand, and perhaps Lady Melisandre. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sansa. He hated the thought of leaving her in that house with Baelish. Suddenly an idea came to him.

He shot of his office and ran into Barristan Selmy on his way out of the building.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Um, uh, visiting a friend?” Willas tried.

The chief raised an eyebrow. “Tyrell…”

“I am!”

“Who?”

“Lady Hardyng.”

Selmy rolled his eyes. “Tyrell if you’re still working on the-“

“I’m not! Well, that is, this doesn’t-“

Selmy waved him off. “Just go before I fire you again.”

Willas took off before the chief changed his mind.

~~

Clegane slipped into the carriage next to Sansa.

“You don’t have to do this Mr. Clegane,” The lady said as the carriage was pulled into motion. She was intently studying her hands.

“I don’t like seeing you with that monster,” He growled, ignoring her protest.

“He’s my husband,” Sansa responded weakly.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not a monster,” Clegane grunted.

“What do you want from me Sandor?” She asked, looking up at meeting his eyes.

“I want to take care of you,” He responded, reaching up to cup her cheek. Sansa’s stomach started to knot.

“I’m married….” She whispered, leaning closer.

“Not for long if I have anything to say about it,” With that he kissed her.

The kiss was rough, but the way it made her stomach knot even more. Sansa’s arms encircled his neck. He was a good five inches taller than her, a vast difference to the half-inch Petyr had on her. It was the first time she could remember kissing someone and not feeling a vast amount of hatred towards her partner.

She found herself leaning in closer when the carriage came to a stop. She pulled away just as the driver opened the door for her.

“Goodbye Mr. Clegane,” She said quickly, slipping out of the carriage. “Brune, could you take Mr. Clegane back to the yard, please?” He heard her say.

The detective watched her walk up the steps to the house, Baelish was waiting outside. The man eyed the carriage suspiciously, and Clegane had a feeling the man knew he was there. Sansa must’ve sensed it too because she threw her arms around him and kissed him. Baelish kissed back with a passion. That was the last think Clegane saw before the carriage pulled away.

“What was that for?” Baelish asked once the kiss was broken.

“Can’t a wife want to kiss her husband?” Sansa offered, going into the house. Baelish shut the door behind them and snaked his arms around her waist, Sansa leaned into him.

“Who was in the carriage?” He murmured against her neck.

“N-no one,” She tried, still reeling from her kiss with Sandor.

“Mm, try again sweetling.” Baelish’s arms tightened around her waist.

“Willas Tyrell,” She offered. Her husband bit into her neck lightly and she moaned softly.

“One last time, sweetling.”

“Sandor Clegane.”

Sansa found herself being shoved up against the wall, perhaps a little harder than intended. Baelish was on top of her in the next second. His eyes were burning and he opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand to cradle his cheek.

“You’re my husband, Petyr. You know how I feel about you, I-“ Petyr cut her off with a kiss, Sansa’s arms wrapped around his neck and she tried desperately to pull him closer.

“Say it,” He murmured against her lips.

“What?” She breathed.

“You know what.”

Her blue eyes were burning into his green ones. “Petyr…” He raised an eyebrow at her. But instead of continuing, she just kissed him again.

~~

“Well this is a surprise, Mr. Tyrell,” The woman formally known as Myranda Royce wore a smirk on her face. Marriage had served her well. Not only was she positively radiant, but Myranda was now apart of one of the richest family’s in England as well as the mother to two healthy baby boys. She and Lord Hardyng seemed to care for each other a great deal, though neither would go so far as to say it was love. No the marriage between Myranda Royce and Harold Hardyng was something entirely different. They respected each other, they did their duty to the family in producing heirs (and had _immense_ fun in the process), and they were happy. Neither one was bothered if the other took a lover. If it didn’t do any damage to the perfect life they had built, it didn’t matter.

“Yes, well, it wasn’t planned.” Willas said, taking the seat across from the lady.

“Now I _am_ intrigued.”

“You’re very close to Lady Baelish correct?” He started.

Lady Hardyng’s eyebrow flew up. “Yes…”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“And just when I thought it couldn’t get more interesting.”

Willas shifted uncomfortably. “I’m concerned that Lord Baelish might not be treating her…that is…I’m have reason to believe-“

“You think Lord Baelish is abusing his wife?” Myranda was shocked to say the least. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Tyrell.” The woman’s eyes narrowed at him. “I have never, in my life, seen a couple _more_ devoted to each other.”

“Lady Hardyng, please. Lady Baelish has told me that- rather she’s implied that, Lord Baelish is not the most caring of husbands.” He sighed. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to be wrong.”

Lady Hardyng eyed him suspiciously for a moment before responding. “I believe I know what you’re proposing, Mr. Tyrell. And very well, I accept. Only to prove you wrong.”

“Thank you, Lady Hardyng.”

Myranda nodded. “Now, you’re going to have tea with me and pretend you actually came to enjoy my company.”

~~

The room was dark, Sansa was on her side of the bed, and Baelish was on his. He had his back to his wife, but she was staring at him. After she’d kissed him, they’d made it back to their room, leaving a trail of clothes behind in the process. After thoroughly fucking his wife, Baelish had rolled off of her and refused to look at her. Sansa wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she was sure that he was not asleep. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and say what he wanted to hear. But she couldn’t.

What scared her was, she wanted to say it. After all they’d been through, she wanted to say it more than anything, but the memory of her father being dragged out of the throne room was burned in her mind. This man was responsible for that and she couldn’t feel that way about him. She couldn’t.

Finally, Sansa found the strength she needed. She pulled herself closer to her husband and wrapped her arms around his stomach.

“I’m going to be your queen, Petyr. We’re going to rule England together.” She whispered in his ear. He didn’t respond, but Sansa knew he was smirking. She bit lightly on his ear, which did cause him to turn over.

“Do you know what you do to me woman?” He growled, engulfing her in his arms.

“I have some inkling, my lord.” She kissed him then and nothing had ever felt sweeter. But as the kiss deepened, Sansa’s mind wandered to a different man entirely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that chapter turned out to be ten times more intense then I had planned. I feel like it kinda deviated from the plotline a little, but I think it was also necessary. I'm not sure, I might go back and rewrite it. We'll see.   
> Next chapter will feature the return of our kissing cousins as well as the Myranda/Sansa gossip hour. Whose pumped? I'm pumped.


	6. Alone in Our Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Thoughts of SanSan occur in the chapter below

For the first time since she’d been married Sansa woke up alone. She reached for him, only for her hand to meet empty air. She sat up quickly and looked around, there was no sign of her husband. Sansa rang the bell for her maid. The girl informed her that Lord Baelish had left very early.

Sansa leaned against the headboard and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. _He knows_ she thought. _He has to know._ The question was, what was he going to do about it? Would he kill Clegane? Maybe. What about her? Would he harm her? He was a possessive man to say the least, but she felt confident that he would never physically harm her. Still, the man was a master manipulator. He could make her life hell without lifting a finger, if he wanted to. Sansa shivered.

It was becoming harder every day to hate him. She’d even once caught herself justifying his actions towards her father. God she couldn’t feel this way about him. But then again would it truly be so terrible if she did?

She took a deep breath. Perhaps Sandor would make her forgot about him. He clearly had feelings for her and she wasn’t entirely repulsed by him…Far from it in fact. Maybe she could really assist him and Willas in defeating Petyr. Forget all hopes of being a queen and enjoy a simple life with Sandor… She could feel proud of the man she- _no don’t even think it,_ she told herself. _If you admit it, you’ll never be able to go back._

Sansa glanced over at the clock, it was nine. She didn’t have anything planned for the day and she decided to sleep a little longer. She rolled into the middle of the bed and pulled the covers over herself. It didn’t feel the same without his arms around her. She tossed and turned for a few minutes before realizing sleep was not going to come.

With a huff, she rang for the maid again and got dressed. She made her way down for breakfast. Sitting alone in the dinning room, Sansa realized how much she actually missed her husband’s company.

~~

 _Dammit all to hell_ Petyr cursed silently. He’d worked too fucking hard over the last ten years for it all to go to waste just because _his wife_ was falling in love with someone else. She had been a risk from the start and he had known it, but at the time…at the time he hadn’t cared.

Sometimes, after she had fallen asleep, Petyr would just look at her. He’d brush a stray curl out of her face. Every now and then, she would wake up and kiss him before going back to sleep. Other times she would just nestle closer, perhaps throwing an arm around him in the process. It was in those moments that he realized how much he cared about her. It was in those moments he regretted marrying her.

When Cersei had offered her to him, he thought she had been joking. She was _Sansa Stark_ , the last surviving child of Eddard Stark, the heir to Winterfell, the most beautiful woman in England.

“ _I don’t need her to fall into the wrong hands.” Said the Queen Mother. “If we let her go home those Northerners would rally around her and rebel. I need her with someone I can trust.”_

_“I’m flattered, cousin. Does that mean you trust me?”_

_Cersei rolled her eyes. “I’d be a fool to trust you, but you’re a member of this family. However_ distant _a relation you may be,” She did love to remind him of that. “I can count on you to put the well being of this family above everything else.”_

 _He flashed his signature smirk, “Of course,_ cousin.”

What Petyr had suspected was a shy, terrified young girl. What he got was a hate-filled woman that wanted revenge for the murder of her family. It had only taken speaking to her a few times for him to realize that she would be the _perfect_ Queen to his King.

He hadn’t outwardly told her what he was planning, no that was far too risky. He had hoped she would catch on. And his darling queen complied. She had figured it out after Joffery and Tommen had died. And she’d helped him plan the death of sweet Princess Myrcella. Sansa had chosen who would kill the princess, when, how and, most importantly, who would take the blame. He had fond memories of making sweet love to her all night after Ellaria Sand had been arrested.

Petyr groaned. Much as he hated to admit it, Sansa was becoming a bad investment.

He turned the automobile onto the familiar street and stopped it in front of his establishment. He was met at the door by Olyvar.

“She’s waiting in your office, sir.” The blonde man said.

Petyr smirked, “Excellent.” He turned down the long corridor that led to his office.

“Sorry about the locale,” He told the woman when he reached his destination.

“No you’re not,” Olenna Tyrell remarked. Petyr shrugged, she wasn’t wrong. “What do you want, Lord Baelish?” The old woman continued.

“I want to help the Tyrells regain their footing, of course.”

Olenna scoffed. “You have an odd way of showing it, killing both of Margaery’s husbands.”

“A fair point, my lady. However, I’d be more than glad to rectify the situation…for a price.”

The old woman laughed. “I would have expected no less from you. What are you offering?”

“Well I if I’m going to be king one day, I need people around me who I can trust.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine you’re offering to put aside the Stark girl for my Margaery.”

His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps I am.”

~~

“Are you still working on the royal family case?” Lily asked her husband that night at dinner.

Willas fiddled with his fork. He wanted to tell her what he and Clegane were up to . He knew he could trust her, but something was holding him back. Willas was fairly positive Baelish suspected what he was up to. A man like that had spies everywhere. If Willas failed in his mission and Baelish ascended the throne, he knew his days would be numbered, as would Clegane’s (the man’s days were already numbered if he’d truly kissed Sansa the other day). He didn’t want to risk the same fate befalling his wife.

“N-no,” He said finally.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t I believe you?” Nothing did get past her.

He thought for a moment before responding. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that I thought Tyrion Lannister was not guilty of murdering half the royal family.”

She took a sip of her wine before speaking. “Then who, hypothetically, would you suspect in his place?”

Willas shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t say.”

“Willas-“

“You know I would if I could,” Willas always shared his cases with his wife. Hell, on occasion she’d helped him solve the damn things, but this time he wouldn’t risk it.

Lily huffed, “Very well…do you at least think you can stop them? Can you at least tell me that?”

Could he stop Petyr Baelish? The man was a master of schemes, none of the evidence ever led back to him. Even with Sansa’s help, could he hope to prove this man was murdering his family?

Willas had always dreamed of solving a brilliant crime like this. At one point he’d hoped to solve the Jack the Ripper case, but that was even more challenging than this one.

At this point, however, it wasn’t about becoming a world-famous detective, it was about stopping a madman from becoming the next King of England.

He answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The return of Lily!! I rather like how her character turned out in Five Little Pigs, and Willas deserves love so here she is.   
> Oh I guess I lied about the Myranda and Sansa...and the Dany and Jon.   
> Oops.   
> Sorry about that, but hey! you got a look into Petyr's brain. You're all here for him and not the Targs anyway.


	7. When I Am King You Shall Be Queen

 

“Sansa it’s been too long,” Myranda went to hug her old friend. The redhead returned the hug wholeheartedly. She had met Myranda upon first coming to court, the older girl had initially intimidated her, but they had become fast friends. But then Myranda had disappeared from court after marrying Harold Hardyng. Leaving Sansa all on her own.

Sansa showed her into the sitting room where tea was waiting.

“How are the boys?” Sansa asked, once they were seated.

“They’re well, thank you for asking,” Myranda smiled. “They’ll be two next month.”

“Good, good,” Sansa took a bit of the lemon cake that had been set out. She briefly wondered where Petyr had gone. He hadn’t returned home at all yesterday and she was growing worried.

“I have to admit,” Lady Hardyng started after a few moments of silence. “My visit isn’t entirely a social one.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

Myranda took a sip of her tea before responding. “I had a visit from Willas Tyrell the other day.”

Sansa took a deep breath, she knew what was coming. She admired Willas for caring so much, but- _it’s all part of the act._ She reminded herself. She wanted to a queen, she needed to keep Willas on his toes till Jon and Daenerys were dead. Pretending Petyr was a monster ( _he is a monster_ she had to remind herself) was a part of the game.

“What did he say?” She asked innocently.

Myranda shrugged, “Some nonsense about Petyr hurting you, I told him it was ridiculous, but,” Sansa looked to the floor. “It _is_ ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Sansa gave the best fake laugh that she could, “Of course it’s ridiculous, Petyr would never-“

“Sansa, tell me the truth,” Myranda’s voice was cold and serious.

Lady Baelish closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “He’s just a little…he doesn’t…what I mean is-“ She burst into the tears she had rehearsed so well.

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” The older woman said, rising to her feet and going to kneel by her friend. “You’re going to come stay with us. Harry won’t object, I promise, we’ll-“

“No, Randa, I have to stay, please I can’t leave.” Sansa begged.

“ _Why?”_

Sansa had to think fast. She hadn’t been expecting Myranda. This hadn’t been part of Petyr’s brilliant plan. _Damn you Willas_.

“I-I’m pregnant.”

~~

Seducing Margaery Tyrell had been far easier than he had expected.

She’d been locked up in her house dressed in black for half a year, so he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

He was sure Olenna had told her something of their plan. That must have been part of her eagerness. Margaery wanted to be a queen.

Petyr smirked as he watched her sleep. The thought wasn’t entirely repulsing. She was certainly beautiful. Though he couldn’t help but remark to himself that she didn’t hold a candle to Sansa. Still, if he had to, he would trade Sansa for Margaery. He ignored the voice in his head that told him differently.

Petyr picked up the newspaper that was sitting on the table. He smirked as he read the headline.

_Ellaria Sand Hangs For Murder of Princess_

Baelish smiled to himself, things were going according to plan. He did love when that happened. After this the Tyrells would be in his pocket for as long as he needed. Olenna would, no doubt, want his head, but she would restrain herself. It would, after all, be beneficial to them both.

He heard Margaery stir next to him.

“Mm, what time is it?” She murmured.

“No idea, dear.” He responded, getting out of bed. This caused the girl to sit up.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, of course.”

There was a combination of anger and fear in the Tyrell’s eyes, “But I thought-“

“Fear not, sweetling, I leave only to save your reputation. You’re in mourning remember?”

Margaery groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”

Petyr chuckled as he pulled his clothes on.

“When will I see you again?” She continued.

“Not till after Jon’s coronation at least,” He responded. Margaery’s disapproval was plain, but she said nothing.

He leaned over and gave her one last kiss. “You’re going to be Queen, sweetling. You’ll just have to wait a little bit longer.”

~~

Jon looked out the window. It would have been a lovely summer’s day had it not been threatening rain. He was King of England. _This is right._ He told himself. _I’m not supposed to be King. Joffery was supposed to be, Tommen, Rhaegar, even Myrcella. They were supposed to be rulers. Not me._

When the news of Myrcella’s death reached him, Jon’s first thought was to abdicate. He didn’t know how to run a country. No one had ever expected that the crown would fall back into Targaryen hands. But now that it had, Jon didn’t want it. Maybe he should abdicate. He would probably make a mess of everything anyway. Daenerys would make a better queen than any of them.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

If he had to do this, Jon wished he had her by his side. He knew she wasn’t happy with Jorah. She never said as much but he could- _No._ He had to stop doing that. He didn’t know what she wanted. He didn’t know if she was happy or unhappy. Daenerys never confided in him. The only person she had ever confided in was Drogo. And he was dead. Jon had to stop assuming he knew her.

She wasn’t Yggrite, she wasn’t the redhead he knew so well…speaking of people he needed to stop thinking about.

Yggrite had been so different from Daenerys. She was crude and loud and… _wonderful._ And yet there was a similarity between the two. They were both so headstrong, so beautiful… He shook his head; Yggrite was back in Scotland and Daenerys was married. He needed them _out_ of his mind. God, between those two women Jon would go crazy.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” He called.

It was Sam; he knew that without even looking.

“What do you want?” He asked. Jon knew snapping at Sam was not the answer, but Sam never complained. He knew Jon was under a great amount of pressure.

“Um, Lord Varys is here. He wants to talk to you about the coronation. What to expect and-“

“Send him in,” Jon groaned.

He didn’t want any of this.

~~

Willas and Clegane were have a nice quiet lunch in their office, when Myranda Hardyng burst in.

They both jumped to their feet, “Lady Hardyng, what an unexpected-“

“She’s pregnant Willas!” The woman screamed.

Tyrell just stared at her. “What? I’m sorry-I’m conf-“

“ _Sansa_. That fucking bastard got her pregnant.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Clegane growled.

“Nobody is killing anyone!” Willas sank back into his seat exasperated.

“You better tell me what the hell is going on Tyrell.” The lady demanded.

Willas offered her a smile, “You know I can’t do that Myranda.”

She glared at him. “Tyrell, I swear-“

“You’re not in the service anymore,” Clegane told her. “We can’t share that information with you.”

Myranda rolled her eyes. “ _Fine._ If that’s what you’ve been after, then _fine.”_

Before marrying Harold Hardyng, Myranda Royce had been one of the greatest spies Willas and his partner had ever had the pleasure of working with. She’d deactivated her membership when her father had her engaged to Lord Hardyng.

“Have a seat then, Agent Royce.” Willas motioned to the chair opposite him. Myranda took the offered seat, while Clegane took the chair next to Tyrell.

“Now, what’s going on?”

“Petyr Baelish is third in line to inherit the crown.” Willas said.

“Holy hell,” Myranda breathed. “Is he really going to…” The detectives nodded. “We have to stop him.”

“We are trying, but without any evidence-“

“Why can’t we just kill him?” Myranda demanded.

“She has a point, Tyrell.” Clegane said.

The thought had crossed Willas’ mind, but he decided it would be much more satisfying to show the whole world what a monster Baelish was.

He voiced his opinion to Myranda and Clegane. The agreed with him, though neither was very happy about it.

“I’ll give you till Jon Targaryen’s coronation,” Myranda said quietly after a moment. “I doubt Baelish would wait much longer after that. If you haven’t gotten your evidence by then, I’m going in myself.”

“Very well, my lady.” Willas agreed.

Lady Hardyng nodded. “Now, tell me everything you know.”

~~

Dinner was a quiet affair. It always was. Occasionally one would ask the other how their day was spent, the person on the receiving end of the question would answer and they would fall back into silence.

“Are you looking forward to your cousin’s coronation?” Jorah asked. Daenerys searched for malice in is voice, but found none.

“Yes, of course.” She was sure he suspected something, but if he did, he said nothing. Ser Jorah had loved her since the beginning of her first marriage. He was absolutely devoted to her and she took advantage of his kind heart.

Not for the first time, Daenerys wished they had a child. After her miscarriage during her first marriage, the doctor told her she couldn’t have any more. It was the reason she hadn’t been married off to Jon after Drogo had died.

She had accepted Jorah’s proposal more out of want for companionship than love. She _did_ love him; just not in the way he wanted. Not the way he loved her. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Daenerys wanted to love Jorah, but it was beyond her control.

“Did you ever want to be a queen?” He asked suddenly.

She blinked. Daenerys had been engaged to Rhaegar Targaryen from the day she was born. Then there had been the accident that killed Rhaegar, Viserys and her uncle Daeron. It was then assumed she would marry Rhaegar’s brother, Jon.

Robert Baratheon had just died and there had been talk of allowing Jon to rule till Joffery was old enough, but Tywin Lannister had crushed all hope of that. Daenerys hadn’t cared at the time, she was happy with Drogo. Her family was furious with her, but she was happy. And then she lost her baby boy and Drogo on the same night. Her parents were long dead by then and the only family she had left was Jon. She’d expected him to turn her away, but he hadn’t. He’d taken her in until she recovered.

And then she’d married Jorah. And she was happy. She had never desired to be a queen.

“No, of course not.” She laughed off his question and continued to eat her food.

Still, deep down, Daenerys felt that, in another life perhaps, she would have been a _wonderful_ queen. The thought had been plaguing since she last saw Jon. It would be _so easy_ for Jorah to meet with some accident…Jon would marry her then, she knew that for sure. They could rule together. True they would never have children, but they had that cousin, Baelish was his name if she remembered correctly…As soon as the thought came to her it left. She was always horrified that it had ever occurred to her. She was not a murderer…

But the thought kept coming back to her and it was becoming harder and harder to resist.

~~

Sansa paced nervously in her husband’s study. He’d been gone for a day and a half and Sansa was at her wits end. What was he doing? Had he done something to Sandor? Or was this about the coronation? She wrung her wrists and then she heard a carriage pull up outside the house. She rushed to the window and looked down. Her husband climbed out. Sansa took a deep breath, but she was afraid of what he was going to say.

A few moments later a disgruntled looking Petyr Baelish came in.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked, pouring himself a drink and swallowing it all in one go.

Sansa laughed nervously, “Lady Hardyng visited today,” She started.

“Oh?” Petyr poured himself another drink.

“She talked to Willas and…she was concerned about…you and she tried to convince me to leave you,” Sansa was fidgeting, “and I panicked and I told her I was pregnant.”

There was a moment of silence before Petyr let out a laugh. “Well done, sweetling, truly.”

Sansa blinked. “Y-you’re not angry?”

He chuckled again before crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. “Why would I be angry? You just need to keep Tyrell on a wild goose chase until the Targareyn’s coronation.” He kissed her neck and Sansa leaned into him. “Tell them whatever you need to, sweetling.”

Sansa bit her lip and placed her hands on his chest. “I-I think I could do that best, if I left.” Petyr raised an eyebrow. “I just mean, if I stayed with Myranda I could see him more often and know what-“

“Do you want to leave?” He interrupted.

Did she? If she stayed she was at risk of betraying her family and everything they had stood for. If she left…maybe, just maybe, she could set herself back on the path she had originally started on.

She gave the slightest of nods.

“Very well then,” Petyr sighed. “You’ll leave tomorrow afternoon, go to whichever of them you deem best, except Clegane. I don’t want you near him anymore than you have to be.” Sansa could hear the venom in his voice and she agreed. “Good,” His infamous smirk reappeared. “Then I suggest,” He pulled her closer and his hands went to the ties on her dress. “We make the most of our last evening together.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last!! I was struggling with this chapter a bit, but I'm rather proud of the result. I hope you like Secret Agent Myranda. She's a blast to write.  
> Once again apologies for blowing holes in the ship  
> Now go give me your thoughts!


	8. The Trace of Something in the Air

Sansa missed Petyr. She’d been staying with Myranda for a little over a week and she was suffocating. Her days consisted of playing with the Hardyng twins, having awkward dinners with Harold and Myranda, and staring out the window.

Then she would fall into bed alone. She didn’t sleep on the first night. She’d gotten too used to Petyr’s arms around her. God she missed him so much.

When it was late she would wonder what their child would look like, when they actually had one. She imagined a little boy with red hair and little girl with green-grey eyes. It surprised her, but she could see Petyr being a wonderful father. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. She supposed she would have to find out one day. If she ever wanted to be Queen, that is.

She still wanted to be Queen; of that there was no doubt. Still, the more she day dreamed about it, the more she saw herself ruling alongside Petyr.

God she was such a fool. Petyr Baelish was the reason her father was dead. But then again…her father _had_ been saying all kinds of things about Joffery. Something about him not being Robert’s true heir…it hardly mattered now. The truth was, Joffery would’ve had him killed with or without Petyr’s interference. Still…her husband hadn’t exactly helped Ned.

_What was he supposed to do? Go down with a sinking ship?_

Sansa wondered what her mother would say. She had grown up with Petyr. Her mother had never said anything to her about him. Sansa heard bits and pieces of the story of his fight with her Uncle Brandon. A fight over her mother. Petyr had been in love with her mother. That’s the only reason he’d married her, Sansa was sure, because she looked like Cat. What would she think about him being her daughter’s husband? Sansa couldn’t imagine Catelyn would’ve been too happy with the prospect.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what her parents would think. They were dead. It didn’t matter what Petyr did in the past. He wanted the throne. And so did she. They had a goal. They needed each other.

 _You only need him till you have a child._ She reminded herself. Then she would find some clever way to dispose of him. She would be regent till their child was of age and-

Suddenly Sansa thought of Cersei Lannister. Cersei had had Robert killed. She wanted her son to be king so she killed the man she despised.

Sansa wouldn’t be another Cersei Lannister. She wouldn’t.

 _But that’s exactly what you’re doing._ The voice in her head told her. _You’re becoming the person you despised most._

~~

Willas let out a sigh of relief. Sansa was safe. He’d received a message from Myranda shortly after her arrival. Baelish seemed to be none the wiser, though he was no doubt searching the city for his wife.

Willas was glad Sansa was out of harms way, but that meant he and Clegane were on their own as far as leads went.

Willas ran his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do? He had three months to prove Baelish was a murderer. He knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Myranda just killed the man, but his gut told him that would lead to serious repercussions. Baelish was not a fool; he probably had something up his sleeve in case something _did_ happen to him.

“Willas are you still up?” Lily’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. His wife gently pushed into his study. He glanced at the clock and he saw it was almost midnight.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“It’s alright, you’ve got a lot on your mind,” She smiled at him and leaned against the doorway. “Talking about it might help.”

“I told you I can’t-“

“Willas you’re struggling, you need my help.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest. “You always have a big epiphany about a case after you talk to me. So talk.”

He thought for a moment before responding, perhaps there was a way of telling her without telling her the whole truth. “I have a client who…suspects that her husband is a murderer.”

“How awful.”

“The problem is, her husband is a clever man. Nothing ever gets traced backed to him.”

“No one can be that clever, there must be something or maybe _someone_ who could help. A former colleague or a-“

“Lysa Arryn!” Willas jumped up from his desk.

“What?” Lily’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You, my darling, are a genius.” Willas crossed the room and gave her a soft kiss. “I know who I need to talk to. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

The blonde smirked. “What did I tell you? Talking to me always makes it better.”

With that Lily headed towards their bedroom, Willas followed eagerly behind.

~~

As predicted, Olenna Tyrell wanted his head.

 _“I told you to make her like you! That doesn’t mean you get to fuck her!”_ If his memory served, Olenna may have thrown something at him.

Baelish rubbed his temples. The old woman would get over it. A Tyrell would sit on the throne, eventually. Not Margaery, of course, Baelish wasn’t a fool. But Olenna didn’t need that bit of information just yet. When the time came, he would tell her the truth and by then he would have so much evidence on her she would have to deal with it. Besides, Margaery Tyrell would be well off, he wasn’t completely heartless. He knew exactly what he was going to do with her when this was all over.

Baelish groaned. He missed his wife more than he cared to admit. He hadn’t slept a wink since she left. Not that it was an issue, he could operate on no sleep, but the house seemed empty without her. He missed walking into the library to find her curled up by the window. He missed her coming up behind him when he was working and distracting him in the best ways possible. He missed holding her at night. He missed _her._

Baelish wondered how she was spending her days. No doubt she was enjoying Myranda’s company and hopefully she was keeping Tyrell’s head spinning. His mind wandered to Sandor Clegane and Baelish clenched his fists. If that dog put a hand on his wife again he would see him dead before the week was out.

He knew it was an act. Sansa had to act like the poor abused wife so Tyrell didn’t suspect her. Still, he had a sneaking suspicion that his wife really _was_ fond of Clegane, and that he couldn’t abide. If Clegane thought Sansa returned his feelings at all, he would take her away. All Sansa would have to do is say the word.

He poured himself a drink.

Baelish knew Sansa was _more than_ fond of him, whether she admitted it to herself or not was another story. He could see her struggling with it every time she looked at him. She wanted to hate him, to be fair she had the right to hate him. But Ned Stark was a fool, a blind fool, and Baelish would be damned if he was going to let himself be dragged down with the man. So he did what any smart person would do.

Sansa was starting to see that, he was sure. No, Sansa _did_ see it; she just didn’t want to. She had learned a lot since they’d first gotten engaged.

Now, he realized, she was just struggling to admit to herself that she was in love with him. Once she did, it would not only make their task only that much easier, but it meant Sansa would never able to harm him. She could never hurt anything she loved; it was a trait he’d discovered early on. Once she admitted that to herself, he was safe.   Sansa most likely had some scheme to take the throne for herself after she really did have a child, but he would be damned before he saw that happen.

One way or another he would get her to admit the truth. If Sansa wanted to be queen, she would have to be one with him by her side. Baelish found himself smirking at the prospect. In a little over three months he would be king.

_Only two people left between throne and me._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't ACTUALLY think I would let Petyr run off with Margaery did you? OH YE OF LITTLE FAITH. 
> 
> Any of you guys know the show a Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder? Yeah that's where the last line came from. Its about a guy who kills all his relatives to inherit an earldom. Great show. Its all I could think about during Shanghai Knights when you find out Lord Rathbone (that would be Mr.Gillen, by the way) is 10th in line to the throne. 
> 
> Back to this^, there's quite a bit of monologuing going on. I don't know, I'm usually a dialogue sort of writer and I have to go back and force myself to explain things more so this is kinda throwing me through a loop here, in any case I'm hoping you'll get more action next chapter. Well I mean you're getting Lysa so that'll be a lot of farts and giggles. 
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed and please tell me what you thought :)


	9. A Man I Can Always Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long you've had to wait for this chapter, life's been a bit busy, but here it is.

Willas sat across from Lysa Arryn at the asylum. Barristan Selmy had reluctantly allowed him to talk to her. Willas knew that the chief inspector agreed with him about Tyrion Lannister. He was doing everything he could to assist Willas without drawing too much attention to them. For which, Tyrell was very grateful.

“What do you want?” The woman questioned, eyes narrowing.

“I would like you to tell me about your husband, Mrs. Arryn.”

“Jon was a fool,” Lysa scoffed.

“Is that why you killed him?”

“You’re here about Petyr aren’t you!?” Lysa’s eyes lit up in a fury.

“There were a lot of rumors flying around at the time-“

“He was going to marry me,” Lysa whispered, arms wrapping around herself. “He said when Jon died he would marry me. So I killed him…I killed my husband…” The woman’s face suddenly constricted in anger, “And then Cersei Lannister had him engaged to my sister’s brat. He said he couldn’t go against the queen mother’s wishes.”

Willas was confused. “Baelish didn’t ask you to kill your husband?”

Lysa looked at him oddly. “Of course not, Petyr’s no a fool. He would never ask me to do something like that. I knew that’s what he meant though, we’ve known each other since we were children, you know.”

The woman continued to ramble, but Willas wasn’t listening. He now knew how Petyr Baelish operated. He didn’t order people to do anything, he merely planted the idea _. And you can’t kill an idea._ Willas had to hand it to him, the man knew how to manipulate. But now that Willas knew how he operated, maybe, just maybe, he could stop him.

“Mrs. Arryn, how long after your husband died was the engagement between Lord Baelish and your niece announced?”

Lysa thought for a moment before responding. “A few weeks maybe, poor Petyr. Sansa’s just like her mother. She’ll never love him, not like I love him…” Willas could tell he was not going to get much more out of Mrs. Arryn. He thanked her and said his goodbyes.

Well now he knew _how_ Baelish had gotten half his family murdered. Simple suggestions in the right ear could do a lot of harm. Still, could one person get eight people killed that way? He must have an accomplice…but who?

“Willas,” Lily called from the sitting room.

“What is it?” Willas started down the hallway and entered the small room.

“Hello dear,” Olenna Tyrell smiled up at her grandson from her seat.

~~

“Sandor Clegane’s here to see you,” Myranda gave her friend a knowing look. “I’ve cleared out my sitting room. You can use that.”

“Thank you Randa.” Sansa managed, rising to her feet. She hadn’t seen Sandor since their kiss in the carriage. Why was he here?

Sansa nervously followed her friend down the stairs and into the sitting room. Clegane rose upon their entrance.

“I’ll have them send tea up for you,” Myranda said before exiting.

The pair stood in silence for a few moments before Sansa went to sit, Clegane followed her example.

“Why are you here?” Sansa asked quietly.

“I wanted to make sure you’re alright,” He replied. “I was afraid that bastard might’ve hurt you.”

“I’m pregnant, Sandor.” She almost spat. She couldn’t stand when he insulted Petyr.

“I’m sorry he put you through that.”

Memories of the last night she and Petyr spent together came back to her. She had to stop herself from smiling.                                                          

“Let me take you away from here,” He said after a moment.

 _Try and Petyr will kill you_. “I-I can’t, Sandor, I have to have this baby-I-I have to see him hang. I have to.” Sansa really had to applaud herself sometimes. She was a fabulous little actress.

The last thing she wanted was Petyr dead. She wanted him to be her king, she wanted to rule with him. _She loved him._ The thought went through before she could stop it.

Sansa’s hand flew to cover her mouth and tears started to pour down her cheeks. She sunk onto the floor and Clegane flew to her side.

“Please little bird, come away with me.”

“I-I can’t. I can’t leave,” _I have to get back to Petyr. I have to tell him._ Sansa shook her head. She had a part to play. She had to do this if she wanted the throne. This wasn’t just for Petyr, this was for herself.

“I’m sorry, Sandor. I- now isn’t a good time,” Sansa wiped her face and rose to her feet. “Will you come back another time?” She clasped his hands and gazed up at him.

Sandor cupped her face with his hand, “Of course little bird.” He kissed her forehead before departing.

As soon as he was gone she bolted back to her room. _I love Petyr. I love Petyr._ The words kept pounding in her head. Sansa smiled widely. She loved Petyr. They were going to start a dynasty together. They were going to rule England together.

“I can’t wait to tell him,” She murmured to herself.

~~

Willas was trying to process everything his grandmother had just told him. Margaery was assisting Petyr Baelish. Margaery _had fucked_ Petyr Baelish. He ran his fingers through his hair. All these months of searching and it had been his own sister the whole time.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you boy?” Olenna said. “I can give you the evidence you need to arrest him. I just need you to promise me that your sister won’t-“

“No,” He interrupted.

Olenna looked startled. “What do you mean ‘no’? This is your family, Willas.”

“I’m not going to make Margaery’s crimes disappear if that’s what you want.”

“No, no, of course not. Just make look as if she was forced into it, is all-“

“I think you need to go, grandmother.” Willas rose to his feet. Olenna rolled her eyes, but followed suit.

“Even as a child you had a flare for theatrics, but very well. I’ll go.” She started towards the door, but turned at the last second. “Just remember we’re your family and nothing you can do will change that.” With that she left.

Willas tore up the stairs to his study and poured himself a glass of brandy. He downed it in one sip.

How could his own family be assisting Baelish? His grandmother claimed it was only Margaery, but Willas wasn’t a fool. Olenna must have had a hand in it as well. Joffery made sense, the boy was a sadistic bastard (quite literally if the rumors about Cersei and Jaime Lannister were true) and Margaery never would’ve been safe with him. But why would they help murder little Tommen? And Myrcella? It didn’t make sense.

Willas groaned in frustration, this was becoming more and more of a spider’s web with every new piece of information that appeared. Baelish was a genius. Willas had to give him that. Is that what Margaery saw in him? He shivered at the thought of his sister with such a man. How long had this been going on? Petyr Baelish had been the one who arranged the match between Margaery and Joffery, is that when it had started? Suddenly a sinking feeling came over him.

“Willas, is everything all right?” Lily asked, entering his study.

“No, darling, everything is not alright.” He sighed, dropping down into his desk chair.

Lily crossed the room and knelt next to him. “What is it?”

Willas snorted. “I just discovered that one of my dearest friend’s husband is even more of a bastard than I had originally thought.”

“You could always kill him,” She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I wish I could,” He sighed. “But it’s not that simple.”

“Does she know what he really is?”

“Unfortunately she does.” He sighed. “When I hear about some of things he’s done to her…” Willas rubbed his temples. Lily leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You should tell her, whatever it is. She’s his wife, she has a right to know.”

He closed his eyes. “I know I’m just afraid of how terribly it’s going to hurt her.”

~~

“Willas what an unexpected surprise,” Sansa offered him a sincere smile. The detective tried to smile back, but failed. They were seated in Myranda’s sitting room. Tea had been poured, but Willas’s cup sat untouched.

“Sansa, I’ve had some rather disturbing news from my grandmother.” He started.

Sansa’s brow furrowed and she picked up her teacup. “What do you mean?” She asked before taking a sip.

“It’s about Margaery,”

Sansa’s eyes widened, “Is she sick?”

 _She must be if she’s fucking your husband_ Willas thought, out loud he said, “No. She’s perfectly healthy…it has to do with Lord Baelish.”

Sansa’s grip on teacup tightened, “Willas, what are you saying?” She started to tremble.

“I think you know, Sansa.” He whispered.

“No, no he wouldn’t,” Tears welled up in her eyes. “He wouldn’t,” The teacup was dropped and Sansa’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “Willas he wouldn’t,” Her sobs grew louder.

 _But he loves me_ was all Sansa could think. _I know he does._ Memories of every little moment they’d spent together came back to her. _Was it all a lie? Was he just using me? I thought_ I _had_ him _fooled. I thought I had made him fall in love with me. He knew the whole time. He made me fall in love with him. . God how could I have been such a fool?_

Willas caught her before she impacted with the floor.

“Help!” He yelled, a moment later the butler came in followed closely by Myranda.

“What happened?” She demanded as Willas lifted Sansa into his arms.

“Let’s get her comfortable, then I’ll tell you.”

~~

_She smelled mint…and cigars…no it was Petyr._

_“Sansa you need to wake up,” He whispered in her ear. Sansa’s eyes fluttered open. She was home, in her own bed. Petyr’s arms were around her waist. She turned to face him._

_“I missed you,” She said, reached up the cup his cheek._

_He chuckled and kissed her. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair and she tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away only slightly._

_“I love you,” She murmured against his lips._

_“Oh sweetling,” He smirked at her. “I know.”_

_Suddenly Margaery Tyrell’s laughter filled the air. “Don’t you think you’ve tortured her enough?”_

_Petyr slipped from the bed and went to join Margaery, arms wrapping around her._

_“Petyr, I don’t-“_

_“How stupid are you?” Margaery cackled. “He’s just been using you, little Sansa and now you’ve served your purpose.”_

_Petyr’s finger tangled in Margaery’s hair as he kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Sansa screamed._

Sansa woke up in a cold sweat. It was dark out, she must’ve fallen asleep after passing out. She still couldn’t believe what Willas had told her. How could she have been so stupid as to believe that _she_ could fool Petyr Baelish? No she was just a silly little girl and he had played her like a violin.

Suddenly a wave of anger washed over her and she clenched her fists. If he thought he could just replace her with Margaery Tyrell he was very gravely mistaken. She was sure Baelish’s plans for her were far from over. But if he thought she was going to take it laying down, he was sorely mistaken. Not to mention, she had a plan of her own that needed to be carried out. And she knew just the man to help her.

_If this is the game he wants to play I’m more than willing to comply._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but it had to be done. *runs and hides*


	10. With Me Beside You

She made sure her hair was completely hidden under a rather impressive hat. Sansa knew she was hardly the only redhead in London, but the last thing she needed was someone to recognize the shade and taking a closer look to see if it was indeed Lady Baelish. Her face was partly obscured by a simple veil attached to the hat. The dress itself was a dark blue, it was nice, but nothing too fancy. She did not need to draw attention to herself.

“You sure you want to get our ‘ere miss?” The driver asked.

“Yes thank you,” She stepped out of the cabbie and checked the address one last time. It was the right place.

Sansa took a deep breath and walked up to the door. She knocked lightly and held her breath.

A moment later the door flew open.

She smiled warmly at the man, “Hello Sandor.”

~~

Willas Tyrell had just surpassed Sandor Clegane on Baelish’s hit list. Myranda’s butler had informed him that his wife had fainted shortly after the detective arrived. Given that Olenna Tyrell had paid her grandson a visit not long before, Baelish didn’t need to guess what information Sansa was now partial to.

 _Damn it all to hell._ He hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret from her forever, but she he was going to wait till _after_ the throne was secure.

_And hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

He was sure Sansa had something planned. More than likely that plan involved his death. Baelish grimaced. His wife was clever; whatever she had up her sleeve was no doubt going to be painful for him, both emotionally and physically.

There was a knock at the study door.

“Come in,” He snapped.

“She’s arrived, Lord Baelish.” Brune said.

Petyr’s smirk was firmly in place, “Send her in.”

A moment later the butler showed in a young woman. She was not terribly tall with blonde hair carefully tucked under a simple hat. Her brown eyes looked around the room briefly before settling on her host. Baelish did have to admit she was rather pretty.

“Mrs. Tyrell, I thank you for coming.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed at him. “Why did you want to see me Lord Baelish?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, please have a seat.” He motioned to the chair that sat opposite his desk as he leaned back in his own.

The woman eyed him suspiciously, but took the offered seat.

“I understand your wife has left you,” She said rather boldly.

“You are well informed, Mrs. Tyrell. Did your husband tell you that?”

“Willas doesn’t tell me anything, he’s trying to protect me.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, “Men do things like that when they’re in love.”

“And what do you know of love, Lord Baelish?” Lily challenged.

“ _Touché_ , my dear.” He smirked.

“I would appreciate it if you would tell me why I was summoned here.”

Baelish did admire her spirit that was certain. He could see why Tyrell liked her so much. _She doesn’t hold a candle to my redhead, though_ was what he couldn’t help remarking to himself.

“Your husband is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“My husband is a detective, if he thinks something is worth investigating, I assure you he’s right.”

The girl was starting to get on Baelish’s nerves. “Let me make something very clear to you, Mrs. Tyrell,” He lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes at her. Lily’s earlier courage started to fail and she began to panic. Baelish was not usually an intimidating man, but when he wanted to be, he could be downright terrifying. “If your husband continues his current work, you’ll soon find yourself a widow,” He paused for a moment. “Or perhaps he’ll find himself a widower…now run along and give him that message.”

Lily barely let out a nod before bolting from her chair. Baelish chuckled darkly to himself. Knowing Willas Tyrell, the boy was going to play right into his hands.

~~

“Margaery Tyrell?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“Its expected Your Grace,” Varys said. “She has a tragic history, to be sure, but I assure you-“

“Her last two husbands dropped dead,” Jon snapped. “Forgive me if I’m not too eager.”

“Through no fault of her own,” Varys continued. “That was the work of Tyrion Lannister.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon grumbled. “Is she the only option?” Margaery was stunning to say the least and she had a reputation for being kind, but Jon was not keen on the idea of marrying a woman who had been twice widowed. Not mention that he’d never met her. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Varys came to him saying he would need to choose a wife, but he was. And he’d hardly suspected it would be so soon.

“Theoretically no,” The bald man answered honestly. “But it would not do to make enemies of the Tyrells. Half of them are in parliament and Garlan Tyrell is very likely going to be the next prime minister. They could make your life very difficult.”

Jon nodded slowly. “Very well.”

Varys looked surprised, “You agree to the match?”

“I do.”

“I will inform her grandmother and we’ll see if we can arrange a meeting between the two of you before we announce it.”

“When will the wedding take place?” Jon asked. He was glad they were holding off on announcing it. He wanted to speak with Daenerys first.

“Not until after your coronation, Your Grace, Lady Margaery is still in mourning.”

“I understand…Thank you, Lord Varys.” Jon stood, signaling that the audience was over.

“Of course Your Grace,” Varys gave a little bow. “And if I may, I do believe you will like the lady very much.”

Jon offered him a half-hearted smile. “I appreciate that Lord Varys, truly…would you send Sam in please?”

Varys nodded and made his exit. Sam was in a few moments later.

“You wanted to see me, Jon-er-Your Grace?” Sam stuttered. Jon chuckled to himself. Sam was one of his oldest friends and he was having trouble adjusting to addressing Jon as king. Not that it bothered the Targaryen.

“Yes, please come sit.” He motioned to the chair next to him and Sam took it.

Jon took a deep breath before starting, “I need you to get a message to Daenerys.”

“Jon-“

“This is important Sam,”

“Aren’t you just torturing yourself more this way? I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but wouldn’t it be better to just let her go?”

“You’re right, but this _is_ important. And it will be the last time, I promise.”

Sam nodded. “Very well…what do you want me to tell her?”

~~

Sansa was laying on her side; Sandor was snoring lightly behind her. She was trying very hard not to be disgusted with herself. She liked Sandor very much, but she’d done this out of anger with Petyr not affection for Sandor. God she really wanted to strangle her husband. It might have been different if he had at least told her what he was up to. She had no doubt he was using Margaery, but the fact that he _hadn’t_ told her that meant he was planning on replacing her.

Her jaw clenched, _I’ll see you in hell before I see you with another queen, Petyr._

Behind her she felt Sandor stir.

“Hello little bird,” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“Mm, I should go,” Sansa said rising and going to pull her dress on.

“Why?” Sandor asked, sitting up.

“I’ve been gone long enough, Myranda will no doubt have ideas about where I’ve been, but I don’t need it to be known that I was out all night.” She glanced out the window, “Damn its already nearly dark.” Once she was fully dressed, Sansa located her pins and tried to recreate the hair she’d had earlier. She placed her hat on her head and glanced in the mirror. Only a few red strands were out of place, it would have to do.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asked.

“It would be best if we waited a day or two, Sandor,” She turned to face him, a sweet smile plastered on her face.

He looked disappointed and Sansa reached up to cup his cheek. “Its just until he’s gone. I promise.” She gave him one last kiss before departing.

 _You are becoming a rather skilled liar_ She said once she was safely in a taxi and on her way back to Myranda’s. _Petyr would be proud_. She grimaced. Yesterday the thought would’ve filled her with pride. She felt a tad guilty about using Sandor this way, but not enough to stop. She wanted to be Queen of England; that was not a goal one achieved without some sacrifices. And if Sandor Clegane’s heart was one of those sacrifices she would gladly toss it into the fire.

“Well where have _you_ been?” Myranda teased when Sansa got back to the house. The redhead just rolled her eyes and Myranda let it go. “In any case, we’ve received an invitation.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “An invitation?”

“Yes from Lord and Lady Mormont, they’re throwing a ball in honor of King Jon.”

She could tell where her friend was going with this, “Myranda I’m not sure if-“

“Nonsense no one’s seen you in weeks! People are starting to think you’re dead! Tomorrow you and I will go into town and get some new dressed made, I won’t take no for an answer.”

Sansa hesitated, but ended up agreeing.

 _Perhaps Petyr will be there_ , She found herself thinking.

~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ready for the pitchforks...let's be real I deserve the pitchforks.   
> In any case, I'm declaring there will very possibly be a little hiatus this next week as I'm going to be out of my state so there won't be too much time for writing on the road.   
> Now please tell me your thoughts (even if you just want to rip my heart out with a spoon)


	11. I Will Prevail

Baelish groaned in irritation. He’d underestimated Olenna Tyrell. A mistake he would not be making twice. The announcement of King Jon’s engagement to the Lady Margaery was in the morning’s paper. _So much for help from the Tyrells_ He thought.

However he knew Olenna would not reveal how Joffery or Tommen had truly died. So wasn’t that foolish. If she declared him a murder he would point the finger right back at her. His word against hers. No, in that regard, he was safe.

Baelish glanced at the invitation sitting on his desk. He smirked; no doubt Lord and Lady Hardyng had been invited and he was sure his little wife would be there as well…

He’d found out about her little tryst with Clegane the day after it happened. Many a glasses had been thrown that night.

 _If she thinks she can sleep with whomever she wants with no consequences she clearly doesn’t know me as well as she thinks,_ he’d raged to himself. Though, there was an irritating little voice in his head saying he had no right to be angry. Sansa was, no doubt, plotting her revenge against him. She was just as possessive as he was, perhaps even more so. But his wife’s jealousy was something he could work with.

_You really should have hid your insecurities better sweetling._

“Olyvar!” He shouted. Baelish preferred working at _The Mockingbird_ now that his wife was away. There were some rather fond memories with her in his study that he wouldn’t like to think about just now. Said memories made it hard to stay mad at her. Baelish needed to concentrate and even though she wasn’t there, his red goddess wouldn’t leave his mind alone.

The blonde was along only a moment later.

“Yes sir?”

“Send Ros in,” He leaned back in his chair and smirked. “I have a proposition for her.”

Olyvar nodded and disappeared to fetch his coworker.

 _Oh Sansa is_ not _going to like this_. Baelish grinned.

~~

Willas came home to find his wife crying. It had taken him a half-hour to get to tell him what had happened. Baelish had threatened her. At first he’d been beyond furious and Lily had to stop him from going out and strangling Lord Baelish with his bare hands. If that bastard thought he could just frighten his wife-

Then it dawned on Willas how easily the man had gotten to him. Because of his position, Baelish had been able to get a hold of Lily, threaten her and return her, beyond frightened, in one afternoon. The worst part was, there was no way to touch him. True, Baelish hadn’t done anything physical to his wife, but he was more than capable of it and obviously not above such things.

Lily sniffed and Willas hugged her tighter. God if anything happened to her…

The detective was forced to hand it to the man, Baelish knew what his opponent’s weaknesses were and he was prepared to use them.

This meant that he knew what Willas and his partner were trying to do. It made their position much trickier. Baelish had made his move and now he was waiting for Willas to make his.

“Lily I need to go out,” He said, kissing her forehead and rising to his feet.

His wife looked up at him fearfully, “Willas don’t-“

“I’m going to see Sansa, nothing more…I promise.” He added after seeing her doubtful expression.

It was a game now. And Willas would be damned if he was going to lose.

~~

Her dress for the ball was a dark green. In fact, one could say it was the same dark green that was on the coat of arms for house Baelish.

“Are you certain?” Myranda had asked. Sansa assured her she was. Petyr was, no doubt, going to be at the ball and she wanted to show him she wasn’t afraid.

Sansa regretted what had happened with Sandor. She hadn’t seen him since it happened. He’d tried to see her, but whenever he came by Myranda always made some excuse for her. Sansa thanked every day for her friend.

She wondered what Petyr’s plan was now? She had smirked when she read the morning’s paper. _King Jon to Wed Margaery Tyrell._ No doubt Olenna Tyrell was behind that. Sansa wouldn’t have imagined she’d taken to the news that Lord Baelish had bedded her only granddaughter. Clearly she’d been angrier than Petyr had anticipated.

 _Serves you right you bastard_ Sansa thought.

However, Margaery was now a potential obstacle. Originally, Sansa had felt sorry for causing her old friend so much pain, but now? _Now_ Sansa would gladly take a hatchet to the girl. Petyr was still her husband even if she _was_ planning on murdering him.

Sansa found herself smirking. She was sure her husband would be at the ball and found herself looking forward to seeing him this evening. _This is going to be so much fun._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Houdini Batman! That was a short chapter!  
> I was originally going to have this be the chapter with the ball (shit's gonna go fucking down guys), but that's going to take me longer to write and I don't want you all to think that I'm dead, so you got this little tidbit.   
> Hey you got into the minds of our three main characters, that was at least a little fun though right?


	12. Shall We Dance?

There was no question. Sansa outshone every single woman in the room, even the dragon princess herself. Her bright red hair was piled on top of her head, held together by pearl pins. The dark green dress had long flowing sleeves, but left her shoulders bare. She wore Petyr’s mockingbird proudly on her neck, ignoring Myranda’s protest that she shouldn’t.

Willas had come by the house before they left. He was going on about Petyr threatening his wife and how they had to act now. Sansa had gotten him to calm down and after a few moments he asked to speak with Myranda alone.

Sansa had eavesdropped to the best of her ability. Unfortunately she hadn’t heard much. Willas relayed to Myranda what had happened and her friend had responded with _“Till the coronation Willas, I won’t wait any longer_.” Sansa wondered what she meant by that. They must’ve been planning something, some way to stop Petyr before Jon’s coronation. _I’ll see you in hell first Myranda_ Sansa had thought. She needed her husband on the throne if she wanted to succeed. _It won’t be a very long reign, my love. Not after what you did._ Petyr was going to burn for this.

Sansa was having a conversation with Lord Mormont when Petyr was announced.

“Lord Petyr Baelish and the Lady Ros,” The man said to the crowded room. Several heads turned upon hearing Baelish had a companion. Mormont excused himself and Sansa’s grip on her champagne glass tightened. The complete fucking _nerve_ of this man. Ros was one of his whores, Sansa knew that much. She wondered how long he’d been fucking her, or perhaps he had brought her to get a rise out of his wife. Given his recent history, Sansa was inclined to believe the former. It could be the latter, she supposed, though, knowing her husband, she wouldn’t put it past him to do both.

“Sansa are you alright?” Myranda was by her side in a moment.

The redhead flashed her friend a smile, “Of course Randa,”

“Are you going to tell him?” Lady Hardyng lowered her voice. Sansa smirked, “Oh yes, yes I am.”

Sansa had learned how to feign morning sickness. It was not particularly pleasant, but she knew it was necessary. Myranda had already begun to question her friend about baby names.

_“I think Alayne if it’s a girl,”_

_Myranda wrinkled her nose. “Why Alayne?”_

_“Alayne was Petyr’s mother’s name.” Sansa responded quietly, knowing Myranda would not approve._

_“You should name her after_ your _mother.” Lady Hardyng insisted. The thought of naming Petyr’s daughter after her mother felt wrong._

_“I don’t think so…beside, I like Alayne.”_

_“And if it’s a boy?”_

_Sansa didn’t want to talk about her imaginary baby she responded in a way that she knew would shut Myranda up. “Well if it’s a boy I ought to name him after his father shouldn’t I?”_

_Her little scheme had worked; Myranda hadn’t mentioned the baby in two weeks._

She watched her husband dance with his whore, watched people whisper, a few pointing at the couple or at her. She watched and waited. After about the third dance she put herself within Petyr’s line of vision. She caught his gaze and he smirked slightly. He said something to Ros and she made herself scarce.

As the music started to swell again, Petyr made his way over to his wife.

“Care to dance sweetling?” He extended his hand to her.

“I’d love to darling,” She gave him a sweet smile. She didn’t want anyone to think anything was amiss between them, more than they already did that is. However, Sansa knew her husband could see the absolute fury behind her eyes.

She heard people buzzing around them as she slipped her hand into his. Petyr’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her a tad closer than necessary for the dance. Sansa gently laid her left hand on his shoulder as the dance began.

“How long have you been fucking her?” Sansa whispered.

Petyr smirked, “Not very long and only because you were away.” Sansa clenched her teeth and her husband continued to speak. “But what of you and Clegane? Should I be concerned that the child in your stomach is not mine?”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “You know perfectly well that-“

“Yes, I do my sweet, but this is not the place to mention such things.”

Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The rest of the world believed Sansa Baelish was pregnant with her abusive husband’s child. Nothing could’ve been more incorrect, but no one needed to know that just yet.

Suddenly a chilling thought came to her. She hadn’t taken any moon tea after her night with Clegane. What if- _No it only happened once_ She insisted to herself _there’s no convincible way_ -

“It only takes one time, sweetling,” Petyr said, reading her mind. It was clear the thought of her having another man’s child was not a pleasing one to him.

“You’re right,” She shot back at him. “When’s the last time you spoke to Lady Margaery? Do you think she has any news for you?”

The smirk returned to his face. “Margaery had the moon tea, you can be sure of that. Shame I can’t say the same about my own wife.”

“What about Ros? Do you think you’ve gotten your whore pregnant yet?” She snapped. “If you did we could at least pass that one off as ours. One could observe that you have an inclination for redheads, darling.”

Petyr’s hand tightened on her waist. “You know perfectly well what my relationship with Ros is,” He said coldly. “You’re letting jealousy get the better of you.”

Sansa had always known what business her husband ran. It was an open secret. Everyone knew about it, but no one talked about it. Ros and Olyvar ran the house for him when he was away. Sansa had been to The Mockingbird a few times, she’d met the staff and gotten more than a little suspicious of her husband spending the amount of time he did with prostitutes. Petyr assured her he never touched any of them, at the time Sansa had believed him. Now she recognized her husband for what he was, a liar. He lied to everyone, why should his own wife be any different?

“What of you, my love?” She asked with clenched teeth. “Willas told me Sandor Clegane’s in the hospital.” The news hadn’t surprised her in the slightest; still, she knew that she was partly responsible for what had happened. For a reason she couldn’t name, that bothered her. Sandor had been nothing, but kind and _loving_ to her. And this was how she repaid him? By letting her husband’s men hurt him?

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” His smirk told her the exact opposite. “And tell me, how are our dear Lord and Lady Hardyng?”

“What do you want Petyr?” She was getting tired of this. She didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t want to be with _him_ anymore.

“What ever do you mean? I’m enjoy the party like everyone else and I’m having a wonderful time dancing with you, my sweet wife.”

Sansa’s ears began to buzz and her vision was blackening.

“Sansa?” Petyr’s voice seemed to be miles off, but she thought she could hear concern there. _What a ridiculous thought_ She said to herself as the world turned black.

~~

 

Baelish caught his wife as she collapsed. Every eye in the room seemed to be on them. Jorah Mormont came to his guests aid and offered a room for Sansa to rest in. Baelish declined the offer and just requested that Mormont help him take Sansa to his carriage. There were murmurs at that and he thought he saw Myranda Hardyng start to voice a complaint, but her husband must have subdued her because she said nothing to him.

By the time they got her to the carriage Sansa had regained consciousness.

“What happened?” She asked weakly.

“You faintest dearest,” Baelish responded, sliding into the seat next to her. “Home, Brune” He told the driver.

Sansa must’ve still been feeling drowsy because she rested her head on Baelish’s shoulder. He was fairly surprised and thought she would retreat, but his wife did the exact opposite. She turned into him a little more and wrapped an arm around his stomach. “I missed you Petyr,” She murmured.

If the circumstances had been slightly difference Baelish would’ve insisted she was sick. She was furious at him. Perhaps she’d hit her head?

But, for once, Baelish was tired of this pretense. He had missed his wife and her she was, arms wrapped around him, saying the same thing. He’d be a fool to push her away.

“And I you,” Baelish tilted his wife’s chin up so she was looking at him. Sansa smiled at him then leaned up and kissed him. It started out innocent enough, but soon grew passionate. Sansa’s hands tangled in his hair as Baelish started to pull her into his lap. Suddenly the carriage came to a stop. Baelish didn’t wait for Brune to open the door for them. He rushed his wife out of the carriage and into the house. As soon as the door was closed, Baelish was on top of her again. He pressed her up against the door and kissed her again. Sansa pushed his coat off and he began to work on the pins in her hair. She heard them clink lightly on the marble floor. Before long there was a trail of clothes leading to their bedroom.

~~

Sansa wasn’t sure what had come over her. She had been absolutely furious with him. But when she had regained consciousness she’d found herself feeling content in his arms. When she woke up she was tired of fighting, so she told him the truth. She had missed him. She knew that they still had quite a bit of talking to do, but at the moment she was having trouble recalling why they had been fighting in the first place.

Sansa raked her nails down his back as Baelish thrust into her. She screamed his name as she fell over the edge and he wasn’t far behind. Petyr collapsed on top of her and took a few moments to catch his breath before rolling off and landing with a soft groan next to her. Sansa curled into him immediately and his arm was around her shoulders in an instant.

“We still have so much to talk about, Petyr.” Sansa whispered.

“I know,” He responded, voice still husky. “But right now I want to enjoy the fact that you are back home and back in my bed where you belong.” Sansa felt herself smile into his chest; Petyr turned her chin up to him so he could kiss her lightly.

“Petyr,” She murmured against his lips.

“Mm?”

“I love you,”

“As I do you, sweetling.” With that he kissed her again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've been having internet issues. In any case you've got it now and for me that's a fairly long chapter.   
> I almost ended it when she fainted, but I decided to push onwards. Aren't you glad I did?  
> Oh but they're not out of the woods yet! There is still a wild Myranda who saw Petyr leave with Sansa.


	13. How Can Love Survive?

Sansa woke up to Petyr kissing her lightly.

“Mmm, what time is it?”

“Nearly noon,”

Sansa’s eyes shot open and she started to get up when her husband pushed her back down.

“You’re not going anywhere today my love,” Petyr chuckled and climbed on top of her.

“Petyr I’m tired,” She whined, but her smile stayed intact.

“I would hope so dearest,” Petyr smirked and leaned down to kiss her, but at that moment there was a hesitant knock at the door. The couple stared in complete shock for a moment before Petyr let out an irritated, “What?” through clenched teeth.

“Sir, there’s a man downstairs to see you,” It was the housekeeper.

“Tell him I’ll see him later.” Petyr growled.

“I’ve tried sir,” The poor woman insisted. “But he says if he doesn’t see you he’ll go to the police. He’s going on about you hurting Lady Baelish, I’ve told he’s being ridiculous, but he won’t-“

“Thank you, tell him I’ll be down in a minute,” Petyr groaned, but got up. Sansa watched him walk around the room and pick up his robe, which was lying on a chair opposite their bed.

“This shouldn’t take very long,” He grumbled. Sansa giggled as he exited the room. She considered trying to go back to sleep, but was curious as to how the conversation downstairs was going to go. She waited a few moments before getting up and putting her own robe on. Quietly, Sansa exited her room and headed towards the stairs. She stopped about halfway down, the door to the library was halfway open, and though she couldn’t see anything she could hear the conversation just fine.

“I came here to see Sansa!” Willas Tyrell demanded. Sansa wasn’t surprised. Myranda must’ve informed him of what had occurred the previous night. No doubt Myranda would be here herself, but Sansa suspected Harry had insisted she not.

“You can see her tomorrow if you’d like,” Petyr said amiably, though Sansa knew that her husband would love nothing more than to shove Willas Tyrell’s head into a fire.

“I would like to see her _now_ ,” Willas insisted.

“Ah,” Petyr chuckled. “I’m afraid you can’t, she’s a bit...tied up at the moment.”

Sansa rolled her eyes; really it was as if Petyr was trying to get Willas to kill him.

“You bloody bastard, what have you done with her?” Willas growled.

“I’m certain you don’t want to hear the details, so I suggest you leave my house before I have you removed.”

“Over my dead body,”

“Suit yourself.” Petyr snapped his fingers and Sansa dashed back upstairs. She heard some sort of scuffle and Willas yelling before the door was slammed.

A few moments later her husband reappeared in the room and dropped down next to her on the bed.

“Eavesdropping is very unladylike, my darling.” He told her.

“As is murdering the royal family, my love.” She responded.

“Ah well, you have me there.”

Sansa giggled and they lay there for a moment in comfortable silence before Baelish spoke again.

“I must say I admire his courage.”

Sansa curled up next to him, “Willas was always like that, when we were children he always played a knight and he would save me from some tragic fate.”

Petyr smirked and pulled her closer. “Do you need saving now my lady?”

“No, my lord, I don’t believe I do,” She lifted her hand to stroke his cheek.

“Then I believe,” Petyr leaned in to kiss her before continuing. “That in a few months, you and I are going to be King and Queen of England.” He rolled her onto her back. “And I think it would be wise,” He leaned down and kissed her neck. “To give the country an heir,” He bit down softly and Sansa moaned. “As soon as possible.”

~~

“What do you propose we do?” Myranda demanded. She was pacing in front of the window; Willas and Sandor were seated in the sitting room of the Hardyng home.

“What can we do?” Willas questioned. “Baelish is without a doubt the most powerful man in England.”

Clegane growled. “We need evidence that he killed Joffery. But how do we get it?”

Willas hadn’t informed Clegane or Myranda about what he’d learned from his grandmother. He wasn’t sure why, to be perfectly honest. Perhaps he was still hoping that there was some small chance he could convict Baelish without dragging his family through the mud. He knew the chances of pinning Joffery on Baelish without implementing his grandmother were slim to none. The problem was Joffery was the only murder they had a chance of pinning on Baelish. The whole thing made Willas’ head hurt.

“I want Sansa out of that house,” Myranda said, shaking her head. “I don’t care what we need, she can’t stay with him.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly, Lady Hardyng,” Willas said. “But how exactly do we propose we get her out of there? After the last time Baelish probably has her under lock and key.”

Clegane looked just about ready to throttle something. “We can’t just leave her there!” He snapped.

Willas ran his fingers through his hair. Clegane was right, but it was true there was nothing they could do. “Baelish needs an heir. As long as she’s pregnant, she’s safe.”

Myranda gave him a disgusted look, but she agreed. “I don’t like it Willas.”

“Neither do I, but Sansa can’t be the priority…England has to be. We need to concentrate on that.” Myranda nodded slowly in silent agreement.

Clegane jumped to his feet. “Listen to yourselves!” He roared. “How could you sacrifice her just like that?”

“Its not like we have a choice Sandor!” Myranda shouted.

“We sure as hell do have a choice!” Without another word the man stormed out of the house.

“You don’t think he would do anything too rash do you?” Myranda asked after a moment.

“Yes I think he would,” Willas said before going after his partner.

Myranda let out a sigh and sat down at the windowsill. She almost went after them, but knew she couldn’t. Before she’d married Harry Myranda had been one of the greatest agents in the field. But now her skills were rusty and she knew there was nothing she could do to help them. No doubt Clegane was making his way to the Baelish House. Myranda wondered what exactly the man was planning to do. Maybe he would kill Baelish. Much as she agreed that perhaps that wasn’t the best course of action just yet, Myranda had to admit it would be much simpler if Baelish were dead. _If only we could be so lucky…_

~~

Petyr and Sansa hadn’t left their bedroom for hours. They had made themselves semi presentable before having food brought up, but the tray had long been forgotten and they were once again wrapped up in each other. The lord was currently flat on his back with his wife smirking on top of him. Before they could go any further they could hear a commotion from downstairs.

Baelish gently moved his wife off of him before standing to put his robe back on. The couple heard yelling and Sansa thought she could make out Sandor Clegane’s voice. Her stomach knotted, if Petyr had heard the same he said nothing. She saw him slip a small revolver into the pocket of his robe before he made his way towards the door.

“Stay here until I come for you,” He ordered before leaving. The commotion stopped shortly after he was gone, but the silence was almost worse. Sansa was expecting him to return any moment, but he didn’t. She was sorely tempted to just throw her nightgown and robe on and go investigate herself, but her gut told her to stay put.

Several hours later Petyr hadn’t returned and Sansa was left to fear the worst.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but I've been busy. I'm afraid it will be taking me longer to update, but fear not! I will not abandon this story!


	14. The Man Who Makes the Laws

Baelish wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he descended the stairs. An intruder perhaps? Or maybe he had subconsciously anticipated Clegane. In either case, when he got to the front hall Sandor Clegane was barely being restrained by three of Baelish’s men.

The man stared daggers at Baelish when he saw him.

“Where is she?” He demanded. “What have you done with her?”

Baelish chuckled, “Why are you and your partner so interested in what happens between myself and my wife?”

“I swear to God Baelish-“

“Swear all you like my friend, you don’t get to come into my home and steal away my wife.”

Clegane pulled one of his arms free and lunged for Baelish, pulling the other two men to the floor in the process. Just as he reached his target, however, Baelish produced a small syringe and sunk it into Clegane’s neck. The man hit the floor in a matter of seconds.

“You know where to take him,” Baelish said to his men. They nodded and struggled to drag the large man away. Baelish glanced up the stairs and considered going back upstairs to tell his, no doubt panicking, wife what had happened. However after a moment he shook his head before disappearing into his dressing room. He’d fill her in later. Clegane needed to be dealt with now.

His valet was along a moment later and helped Baelish change quickly. Within half an hour he was on his way to the Mockingbird. Upon reaching his establishment, Baelish was met at the door by Ros and Olyvar. The two were, no doubt, aware of the guest Baelish was keeping in the basement.

“Business as usual,” He told them. The two nodded and Baelish headed downstairs. Sandor Clegane was starting to come around when Baelish got there. His men had taken the initiative to tie him up. _I knew they weren’t completely useless_ He thought.

However a moment later two more of his men appeared…with Myranda Hardyng and Willas Tyrell in tow.

Baelish couldn’t help but give his signature smirk. “And what is this?”

“They followed us here, Lord Baelish,” One of them answered. Baelish nodded and studied his newest captives.

“Do I have to tie you up as well, or will you behave?” Tyrell he was sure his men could handle, former agent Royce, however, was a different story. The girl was, most likely, out of practice, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a trick or two up her sleeve.

“You can’t keep us here!” Lady Hardyng declared.

“You were trespassing on my property, my lady.” Baelish countered. “I’m within my rights to have you both arrested.”

He saw Myranda’s resolve flicker for a moment. They were both aware what an arrest would do to her reputation. Not to mention the fact that she was at a brothel, of all places. The press would have a field day and Harry would be beyond furious.

As a detective Tyrell was not quite in the same position as Lady Hardyng, but as the former queen’s brother a scandal was not something he could afford either.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind telling _why_ you broke into my house Mr. Clegane.”

“You know damn well why you bloody bastard.” Clegane growled. Baelish smirked. “Ah yes, your obsession with my wife.”

“This isn’t about her Baelish and you know it!” Willas stepped in and Baelish turned on him.

“Oh yes I know. It’s about you and your pathetic attempts to keep your grandmother and sister out of prison.” Baelish knew what Willas was trying to get him to admit and he wouldn’t do it. He trusted his men about as far as he could throw them. They would screw him over in a heartbeat for the right price, though hopefully by now they knew how foolish that would be. Still, he was not going to take the risk.

Myranda’s eyes widened and she looked over at Willas. Baelish let out a chuckle.

“Didn’t he tell you? His grandmother helped assassinate Joffery.”

Willas’s eyes were shut tight. Lady Hardyng let out a gasp and Clegane gave yet another growl.

“Now this is how this is going to work,” Baelish continued. “I’m going to let the three of you go under the condition that you stay out of my way. If anything happens to me, you can say goodbye to your _little bird._ ”

Willas and Myranda immediately cried out.

“You wouldn’t-“

_“She’s your wife!”_

Clegane let out a roar fought against the men holding him, but the sedative had taken its toll and his attempt was unsuccessful.

“How could you Petyr?” Lady Hardyng demanded. “I defended you! I trusted you! How-“

“And that is why you’re a fool my lady.” Baelish smirked. “Take Lady Hardyng and Mr. Tyrell back to their residence.” He ordered his men. “They have spouses who will be missing them. ” He looked back at Clegane. “As for this one….” Baelish nodded and the man holding Clegane back pulled out another syringe and sunk it into the man’s shoulder. Within seconds the large man was on the floor.

“Take him back to his home.”

The men nodded and Baelish went back upstairs. Business was booming and no one paid him any attention. The sounds of men and women fucking made Baelish want to get home as quickly as possible. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. He’d been gone longer than intended. Baelish hoped Sansa had fallen asleep, he would hate for her to worry.

~~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, sorry for the long wait. I debated holding on this for a little bit longer so I could add onto it, but that might take another week or so and I thought you've waited long enough for this! I promise I've got this all planned out it's just a matter of finding time to write it all down!  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


	15. Anxiety In Society

“Where have you been?” Myranda jumped. Her husband was standing in the large hallway in his dressing gown and pajamas.

“Don’t ask me that, Harry.” The woman sighed. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Harold seemed to pick up on this and his expression softened slightly.

“What happened?” He asked walking up to his wife and lightly grasping her shoulders. “Please Randa, tell me.”

Lady Hardyng could hold back her tears no longer. Slowly she sank to the floor, Harry sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms.

“Shhh, whatever it is you can tell me,” He tried, but it only made her cry harder. The stress of being tied up and threatened was something she could handle; in fact it was something she had handled very well in the past. But the way Petyr had talked about Sansa…not to mention the fact that Willas had been lying to her the whole time. It was too much for the former agent to take.

“Randa, please.” Harry insisted after a few minutes of letting her sob. “Tell me what it is.” He tilted her face up to look at him. “I’m your husband, you can tell me anything.”

Myranda knew she could lie to Harry. She was very good at it. In fact, she had been for the past few weeks. Even when Sansa was with them, she’d been very vague on why. But this time was different. This time Harry wanted to comfort her and help her.

So she told him.

~~

“Oh God Willas,” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her husband had just returned home and told her what had transpired with Baelish.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Lily. The coronation’s in two weeks and I’m no closer to exposing him than I was when I started.” Willas ran a hand through his hair.

“Couldn’t your grandmother-“

“No, it’s only her word against his. My grandmother’s very clever, yes, but she doesn’t have any physical evidence. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Baelish had something on her.” Willas collapsed in the nearest chair in the kitchen.

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” Lily stared at the floor as she spoke. “You have to get rid of him Willas.”

He let out a mocking laugh. “If Baelish dies, so does Sansa.” Lily’s head snapped up and she stared at her husband. “He wouldn’t.”

“His men have their orders and I’m sure they were paid well.”

“Good God what do we do?” Slowly, Lily sank into the chair next to her husband.

“I don’t know.” Lily couldn’t remember ever hearing Willas more defeated.

 

~~

When Sandor awoke the sun was just beginning to rise. His memories from the previous night where blurry. He remembered going to Baelish’s house and then it went dark. No…Baelish had stuck something in his arm. That much he remembered.

_Great I’ve been drugged._

Slowly, the previous night began to return to him. He had been taken to Baelish’s whorehouse. The fucking bastard had threatened Sansa again. God Clegane would do anything for her.

Killing Baelish seemed to be their only option now. They had nothing on him, even if Tyrell’s grandmother had helped Baelish kill Joffery. Frankly, Sandor could care less what these damn royals did with their time. But Sansa was an innocent suffering in all of this and he would rather die than see anything happen to her. In face it might come to that.

They had to act and soon. Before Jon’s coronation. But how? The only way Clegane would kill Baelish was if he knew for a fact Sansa was out of harm’s way. Until he had that assurance, he wouldn’t lay a finger on the man. The whoremonger was no doubt telling the truth when he spoke about his _insurance policy_ for staying alive.

God, Sandor couldn’t remember hating anyone more than he hated Baelish.

Clegane groaned.

 _You’ve got two bloody weeks to figure something out_ _better get to work._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was short, but it's been long enough I felt you all deserved some update. Apologies for the lack of Petyr and Sansa.


	16. Our Love is God

“How long?” Jorah murmured.

“Jorah please-“

“ _How long_?”

Daenerys looked and her hands, she was sitting on her bed while her husband was seated at her desk.

“Joffery’s coronation,” She whispered. She chanced a look at him and found his eyes boring into her. Quickly, she looked away again. He wasn’t supposed to find out. _It was supposed to be the last time. Jon was getting married. It was going to be the last time. Jorah was never supposed to know._ The words kept echoing in her head.

Daenerys heard her husband get up and walk towards the door.

“I loved you, you know.” He murmured. “Far more than you ever loved me.”

“I hope the next woman you love deserves you more than I do.” She responded glancing back up at him. There was a sad smile on his face. They held the gaze for a moment before Jorah left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Daenerys collapsed on her bed and the events replayed in her head.

With the help of his friend Sam, Jon had stopped by in disguise. He’d told her he was becoming engaged to Margaery Tyrell. Daenerys wasn’t sure why she’d been so surprised. Jon was king now, he needed to get married and have children, but she’d much angrier than she ever thought she would be.

 _“I came to say goodbye.”_ Jon had said. Daenerys knew what he meant. This _affair_ of theirs would have to stop. Jon already felt guilty enough about sleeping with another man’s wife, he would never be able to cheat on his own wife and stay quiet. Jon was far to honorable for his own good; thought Daenerys could hardly fault him for it.

 _It had only been a kiss. A goodbye kiss._ That’s when Jorah had come home unexpectedly.

Jon had apologized and run out. Not that she could blame him. Not really anyway. _He was king now._ He had a reputation to protect. Though Jorah was the last person Daenerys could see going on the warpath. There was no point.

~~

“Three hours Petyr!” Sansa screeched. Baelish had returned home in expecting his wife would be fast asleep. He was severely disappointed to find her wide-awake and mad as hell.

“Forgive me, my love, I’d lost track of the time.” Baelish had his hands on his wife’s upper arms, in the hopes of calming her down.

Sansa huffed, but after a moment decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. “What happened?”

Baelish shrugged off his jacket, “Well it would seem that Sandor Clegane came here to free you. I took care of it.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

Baelish smirked. “I had him taken to the club where he and his comrades were sufficiently threatened.”

“Petyr the coronation is in two weeks there’s no need to give them more of an incentive to want to kill you.”

“You have a point, but you see,” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Those idiots would just keep trying to take you away from me.”

“What did you tell them?” Sansa placed her hands on his chest.

Baelish shrugged, “Just that if anything happened to me, my men had orders about what to do with you.”

“Petyr Baelish!” Sansa cried, but really she was laughing. She knew Petyr would never lay a finger on her, in that sense anyway.

Baelish chuckled and leaned down to kiss her.

“Just think, in three weeks you and I will be King and Queen of England.”

Sansa smirked. “Yes and how many people will we have killed to achieve this?”

“Oh a dozen at least.” Baelish kissed her again and started to push her robe off. Sansa responded by starting to unbutton his shirt.

There was a time when Sansa would’ve been appalled at what she and Baelish had done. But that was before Joffery. That was before her entire family was slaughtered. Now she wanted to be Queen. She had been promised a crown after all. And Petyr could give her all of that.

“I do love you,” Sansa whispered. The pair was still tangled up in each other.

Petyr kissed her temple. “I know sweetling.”

~~

“I’m sorry, my lord. Lord Baelish isn’t in right now.” Olyvar said. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait for him.”

Olyvar hesitated for a moment. But something told him he should do as the man was asking. “Very well. Follow me. You can wait in his office.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and suspenseful. My specialty.


	17. All I Ask Of You

 

“Ah Ser Jorah.” When he’d arrived, Olyvar had informed Baelish of his visitor, “I apologize that I wasn’t here to greet you. My wife required my attention.”

Baelish went to pour himself a drink, he offered one to Mormont, but the man declined.

After taking a sip of his brandy Baelish spoke, “What can I do for you Lord Mormont?” he asked, taking a seat behind his desk.

“To be perfectly honest, Lord Baelish, I don’t know.”

Petyr raised his eyebrow, but said nothing and waited for the man to say more.

The room stayed silent for several minutes until Ser Jorah finally found the words he wanted. “I’m not a clever man, Lord Baelish, but I love my wife…Yes, I love her more than anything.”

“Yes, ser, that much is clear, but what does this has to do with me?”

“You have a…reputation, Baelish, for making problems disappear.”

Baelish sat up a little straighter and set him drink on the desk. “And what would your problem be?”

“King Jon.”

For a moment, Baelish felt sympathy for Ser Jorah. He understood the pain of loving a woman who would never love you back, yes he understood that very well, but at the same time, Ser Jorah was a fool. Daenerys had been going behind his back for two years and he had only figured it out because his wife and her lover were idiotic enough to get caught. Baelish was certain that, if the couple had had any children the baby could’ve come out looking the spitting imagine of Jon Targaryen and Ser Jorah would’ve chalked it up to family resemblance.

He had known of course, about Daenerys and Jon. The couple was not nearly as discreet as they believed themselves to be, and though Daenerys had become fairly accomplished at concealing her emotions, Jon wore his heart on his sleeve. Any time he looked at his silver-haired cousin, you could see the affection on his face. Truly it was a miracle they’d concealed it for this.

It had occurred to him at one point he could let it slip about the affair. The public would react one of two ways. Either such outrage, it would be in both parties’ interests to relinquish their claims to the throne or it would be in their best interest to marry. Daenerys getting a divorce wouldn’t be impossible. Both were far-fetched outcomes, which was why Baelish had stuck to his original plan, terminating both parities.

However, this was a new development and Ser Jorah’s rage could be put to good use. The wheels started to turn as to how he could use this to his advantage.

Baelish smirked, “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to destroy him.”

~~

 

Harry was still reeling from everything Myranda had told him. The royal family murdered, by Petyr Baelish. Of all people. He couldn’t believe it.

Baelish had been a good friend of his Aunt Anya’s. Harry had grown up around him, at one point he’d even mentored him a bit. And now? Harry had considered him a friend. Him and Sansa. Oh god Sansa.

He admitted that he had been extremely skeptical when the engagement was announced. Baelish seemed the confirmed bachelor and Sansa Stark couldn’t possibly have wanted the match when she had been promised to the prince. But the first time Harry saw them together he would’ve sworn they were in love. God he could never have imagined what Myranda had told him. They had just seemed so incredibly happy together.

“Harry?” Myranda broke his thoughts, but he didn’t respond. Oh yes, and his wife had worked as a spy for several years including the first year they had been married. “Harry say something.”

Harry thought back to the first time he had seen Myranda. Lysa Arryn had thrown a ball for Robin and Harry had _not_ wanted to go. However, his aunt twisted his arm and reminded him he had an obligation to his cousin.

He hadn’t wanted to dance once until he saw her. She was not a very tall with long wavy dark hair and eyes to match. She had been wearing a dark blue gown with a plunging neckline.

It was true Myranda Royce had a bit of a reputation, but that hardly bothered Harry. It wasn’t as if he was completely virtuous himself. When he first asked her to dance, she’d refused

_“May I ask why?”_

_“You have a reputation, Lord Hardyng.”_

_Harry smirked, “Forgive me, my lady, but so do you”_

_Myranda shrugged, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m to be had for the price of a cocktail.”_

_“I merely asked for a dance, my lady.”_

_“Dancing can lead to other things, but thank you for your kind offer.” With that she walked away._

He’d trailed her the rest of the night. Danced with one or two other women before he finally got her to consent to waltz with him. He never could quite figure out why or how, but Myranda Royce enchanted him. Perhaps he was in love with her. It hardly mattered, he but after that dance Harry was determined to marry her.

His aunt had not approved of his choice, but she did nothing to interfere and Lord Royce had been more than pleased with the prospect. Myranda, however, had been much harder to convince.

_“What of all those bastards you have running around, my lord?”_

_“What of them my lady?” Harry had two bastards, both girls. He gave both mothers a reasonable living and a promise to make the girls advantageous matches when they came of age. However if Myranda was worried that his bastard children would inherit anything over her own children, she was mistaken. She seemed somewhat comforted by this, but still she resisted._

_“I’m not sure how I feel about a husband who is known for his womanizing, my lord.”_

_“I understand your concerns, my lady, however I would hardly keep you locked up in the house.”_

_Myranda raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”_

_“Should you desire to take a lover, I would hardly stop you. I would however, request two things. Be discreet and don’t have a child that isn’t mine.”_

After that conversation Myranda had agreed to marry him. And the soon-to-be Lord and Lady Hardyng began to grow quite fond of each other. It was an ideal arrangement, as they both had promiscuous natures, but in the end, they both agreed (to themselves of course, never to each other), that it was very nice to have a constant someone. And once their boys were born their fondness had only grown.

Harry wondered vaguely if she had been a spy from the moment he laid eyes on her. Had she been lying to him from the very beginning?

“What do you want me to say Myranda? You’ve been lying to me for-“

“Harry please, you have a right to be angry, but not tonight. Please God not tonight.” She started to cry again. Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

He was angry, yes, but his wife needed him right now. They’d talk about all this secrecy later. He was fairly positive she was still keeping things from him, but right now he was going to hold his wife. Then after words he was going to help her take down Petyr Baelish.

~~

“Alright, thank you for calling Lady Hardyng. Yes, yes I’ll tell him. Thank you.” Lily hung up the telephone and made her way up to her husband’s study. She knocked and was met with a quiet “Come in.”

Willas was a mess. He hadn’t slept or eaten since he came home the other day. She knew what he was dealing with was an impossible situation, but Lily was beyond concerned for him. He was digging himself into an early grave if he carried on like this.

“That was Lady Hardyng on the telephone,”

“Oh?” So quiet. He had barely said three sentences in three days. Lily made her way over to him and rested a hand on Willas’ shoulder. “She says she has a plan, my love.” This jolted Willas like a bolt of electricity; he jumped to his feet and grasped Lily’s hands. “What did she say exactly? Tell me everything.”

Lily gave out a small laugh and she moved to cup his face in both her hands, “She said she has a plan for coronation night. She wants you to go over immediately, she’s told her husband and called Sandor already, you have a of talking to do if this is going to work.” Lily stood on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead. “Go now.”

Willas took off towards the door, but he stopped when he reached the doorframe.

“I love you, you know.”

I know, I love you too, now go and for God’s sake be careful.”

Willas gave her one last smile before he took off again.

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that took longer than expected to update. Sorry about that. I'll try to finish this before the end of the summer. I do have a plan, life just got crazy I guess


	18. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow...

~~

“What should I wear? The green or the blue?” The coronation was tomorrow. Sansa had a few dressed lying on the bed and was taking turns holding them up in front of the mirror. Petyr was leaning against the headboard thoroughly enjoying watching his wife, who was in nothing more than a robe.

“Always the green, my love.”

Sansa caught his eye in the mirror, “After tomorrow we’re going to be the King and Queen of England, Petyr.” Her statement caused his smirk to turn into a grin.

“That we are.” She couldn’t believe all their hard work was finally paying offing. Two days. _Two days._ And she would finally have her revenge. She would finally have her revenge on the people who destroyed her family. Sansa’s thoughts shifted back to her original plan... Killing Petyr… taking the throne for herself…

 _I did warn you not to trust me_ , the words Petyr said to her father when he betrayed him suddenly came back to her. Sansa shivered.

 _He would be so disappointed in you,_ an evil voice whispered in her head. _Your whole family would be disappointed. Mother. Father. Robb. Perhaps not Bran or Arya…and Rickon was too little to even care…_

“Everything alright sweetling?” Petyr’s voice broke through her thoughts. Sansa pushed the thoughts back, but they were still lurking.

“Everything’s fine, my love.”

Sansa put the dress aside before turning back towards the bed and crawling on top of her husband.

“You’re sure everything’s set?” She asked, their noses barely touching.

“Yes, the day after tomorrow we are going to be ruling the greatest nation in the world.”

~~

Daenerys was pacing. Jorah had been gone for three days now. Where could he possibly be? The coronation was tomorrow and she was absolutely terrified that he was going to do something to Jon. Jorah was a good man, but good men get jealous. And jealousy made good men do horrible things. _Horrible things like killing a king_ She thought with a shiver.

Then again perhaps he’d left her. Maybe he was just gone without a word. _Would that really be so awful?_ Jorah had always loved her, but she had never been able to love him in the way that he wanted. _If Jorah has truly left me, could I marry Jon?_

The thought made her head spin. It wasn’t entirely impossible, but they would need to search for Jorah, have him proclaimed dead or she would have to get an annulment…all of that could takes months, years even. And Jon was engaged to Margaery Tyrell.

Daenerys grimaced. She was not a fan of the Tyrell girl. Both her husbands had been slaughtered not long after she had married them, Daenerys knew that it wasn’t the girl’s fault, but bad luck seemed to follow her. She didn’t want her anywhere near Jon. Or perhaps that was her own jealousies talking…

Suddenly there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,”

A moment later her maid, Missandei, entered the room. “Forgive me, it’s late, but a message arrived from Sir Jorah.” Missandei held an envelope in her outstretched hand with Daenerys’s name written on it. The silver haired girl practically ripped it out of her servant’s hand. “Thank you Missandei,” With that the girl curtsied and left.

Daenerys ripped open the letter and began to read.

_My dearest wife,_

_I know you have never loved me the way I have loved you. So this is my final gift to you. You will never have to see me again. I’ve already left instructions with our lawyers about procuring a divorce. If the king is the man you love, he’s the man you should be with. My only regret is that I could not make you happy._

_All my love, Jorah_

She couldn’t believe what she was reading. _A divorce… I can marry Jon._ Her heart soared at the thought.

~~

           

 

The coronation was tomorrow. _Tomorrow._ Everything she, Willas and Sandor had been working on for weeks. It would all succeed or fail tomorrow. _Tomorrow._

Myranda was fairly confidant her plan would succeed, but there was enough room to doubt that she was beyond nervous. Funny, she could never remember being scared or nervous when she was out on an assignment. When she’d been sent to kill some foreign ambassador or dignitary. Perhaps it was because this time her friend was involved. On all those missions, if something went wrong she was the one who would be punished, no one else would suffer, but this time? This time if she failed, not only would the whole country suffer, but so would Sansa, her dearest friend.

Myranda shook her head. No. Failure was not an option. Tomorrow night she was going to help murder Petyr Baelish or die trying.

“Mama,” Her little boy’s voice broke her thoughts. Myranda was sitting in front of the fireplace in her dressing gown. It was late and she thought the nurse had put both boys down already.

“Hello, my love,” Myranda held out her arms and the five-year-old waddled over to her. “What are you still doing up? Didn’t nanny put you and Derek to bed?”

“She did, but I couldn’t sleep. Derek snores.”

Myranda chuckled. “I’m sorry,”

“Why are you still up mama?”

“I couldn’t sleep either…your dad snores too.” James chuckled at that. Myranda smiled and stroked her son’s hair. This is what she was fighting for. Her sons. The future of England. She couldn’t fail. _Tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter I'm hoping will be super long


	19. The Night They Invented Champagne

Sansa was standing next to Petyr when they crowned Jon. She was standing next to Petyr while chanting, “God save the king” with the rest of the crowd at Westminster Abbey. It was done. All their hard work over the past few months had come to this moment. She exchanged a smirk with her husband. _Tonight._ The ball at Buckingham Palace. If everything went according to plan they could just sit back and watch the two people standing between them and the

throne die.

As she got ready for the ball Sansa began to think about what it would truly mean to be queen. She truly believed she could be a good ruler, she cared for her country greatly, but her time with the Lannisters had made her cold enough that she could make difficult decisions if she needed to. She knew many people would just view her as an ornament, but Petyr didn’t and that’s all that mattered. Petyr saw her as an equal and they would rule together. Sansa truly believed that they would be benevolent rulers, and in time their children would be too.

Her hand rested on her stomach. She hadn’t told him yet. She was only a few weeks along. Sansa imagined Petyr would be a good father. If he was half as devoted to her children as he was to her they would want for nothing. Sansa smiled and picked up a brush. She couldn’t wait.

“You’re stunning no matter what you wear, but I think I prefer you like this.” Petyr’s voice sounded in Sansa’s room. She smirked. Her hair was down and she was clad in little more than an underskirt and a corset.

“How do you think people would react if I turned up to the ball like this?”

“I hardly see why anyone would complain,” Petyr came up behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her cheek before whispering, “But I don’t think it’s the best idea for a future queen.”

“Well I can’t disagree with you there.”

Suddenly Petyr pulled Sansa to her feet. “Come on, we’ve still got several hours before the ball. Let’s make the most of them.” Sansa smiled even wider and let herself be taken to bed.

~~

 

“Are you ready?” Myranda had just finished the final pin in her hair when Harry entered.

“Yes.” This was it. All their planning would come to fruit or would fail. _Tonight._

Harry and Myranda said goodbye to their sons, being a little more attentive than usual, knowing full well that it was very possible they could both die trying to protect their king tonight.

“Mama and papa love you so much boys,” Myranda whispered, kissing both children on the head.

“We love you too,” The boys said together. Myranda swallowed hard and refused to let her sons see her cry. “We’ll see you after the ball alright.”

The boys nodded and Harry gently pulled Myranda to her feet.

“We need to get going.”

The lady nodded and gave her boys one last smile before departing. Myranda had kept a close eye on Petyr and Sansa at the coronation, she was afraid something would happen before Jon was crowned king and if the Baelish’s hadn’t attended at all she would have been even more concerned. But everything had gone off without a hitch. Jon was king. That meant it was the ball. Something was going to happen at the ball and she was going to stop it.

Ever since she’d gotten home from The Mockingbird, Myranda had been terrified for her children. She had to make sure they would be safe. She’d made arrangements in case something happened to her and Harry, Myranda’s brother would take Derek and James. They would be safe regardless of what happened at the ball. They would be safe. Myranda let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.

When they were rolling away in the carriage, she closed her eyes and let fear take her for a moment. Only a moment. She couldn’t let it stay for long or she would never recover. She was going to be brave again, she was going to help save her country.

 

~~

Barristan Selmy hadn’t wanted to allow Sandor to go. Willas actually had an invitation because of his sister, but he had to push for Sandor. _“It won’t hurt to have a little extra security”_

 _“After the stunt he pulled at Baelish’s party I don’t know how much security Clegane would truly offer.”_ But the chief had relented and Willas was once again in a suit and tie with Sandor Clegane by his side. He’d considered bringing Lily to seem less suspicious, but he didn’t want to risk anything happening to her.

 _“Just tell everyone I’ve got a fever.”_ Lily hadn’t seemed particularly keen on going either. Willas was sure it had to do with her last run in with Baelish. His wife was incredibly brave, but Baelish scared Willas. The man had so much power…

Willas shook his head, he had to stay focused.

He watched as the dance floor started to fill up. Jon was currently dancing with Margaery, who looked beautiful as ever. He saw Daenerys join the floor with Quentyn Martell and shortly after more couples followed suit till there was quite a crowd. Willas spied Myranda dancing with Harry, but couldn’t spot Lord or Lady Baelish anywhere.

“They’ve got to be here” Clegane whispered.

“I know…let’s split up and look, if you find them _do nothing_ , just keep an eye on them and don’t let them out of your sight. The only way we’ll be able to pin anything on Baelish is if we catch him in the act.”

Clegane nodded and began moving his way through the crowd.

 

~~

“He’s gone,” Dany whispered as Jon spun her around on the dance floor. A new dance had begun and no one would find them dancing together odd, though both parties were mindful never to get too close to the other.

“What?”

“Jorah, he’s gone. He left.” A million thoughts were going through Jon’s head. Could he really marry Daenerys? If she was getting a divorce he could, no one could _really_ object to their union. Though he could hear Varys’ voice telling him double-crossing the Tyrell’s was unwise…perhaps if he promised to find Margaery a suitable match and guarantee her child would marry his then- Jon stopped.

Daenerys couldn’t have children. He’d never have an heir. Jon himself didn’t care so much about that, he would be happy just to have Daenerys, but the country….

“What does that mean then? For you?” He tried to keep his face from betraying anything.

”We’re getting a divorce and then-“

“And then what? I’m engaged, Dany, we can’t-“

“May I cut in?”

Daenerys froze. _But he left._

“Of course, Sir Jorah, she’s your wife.”

Despite what his cousin just told him, Jon couldn’t afford to make a scene. This was their business, he couldn’t have anything to do with it.

Daenerys took Sir Jorah’s hand, somewhat reluctantly.

“I thought you left.” She murmured.

“I had to see you one last time.”

“Jorah-“

“Will you give it one last try Daenerys? For me?”

Daenerys took a moment. Could she? She’d tried so hard to love Jorah in the past, perhaps now that Jon had left her she could truly give her husband a chance. He was a good man. A good man that loved her. He deserved a chance.

But at the same time, the thought of going back to the life they had led of polite dinner conversations and the occasional public appearance made her want to vomit.

_No. I won’t go back to that._

“I can’t” She whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jorah dropped her hand and took a step back, causing several couples to glance their way. “Have it your way then.” And with that Sir Jorah retreated into the crowd, leaving Daenerys to fear the worst. But after a moment she found herself following him.

~~

 

Petyr and Sansa danced one dance. The waltz. Both of their favorite. _“We need to make sure people know we were in the ballroom. When they’ve seen us once, they’ll assume we’ll be there to the whole time.”_

Petyr made a big show of spinning his wife and Sansa was sure to let out a joyful laugh when he did so several heads would turn their way. When the dance was complete the retreated to a corner of the room and sipped on some champagne Petyr had tracked down.

They watched Jon and Daenerys dance (Petyr quickly and quietly filled his wife in on that torrid affair), once Sir Jorah cut in, the pair slowly began to make their way towards a long hallway.

They occasionally stopped to make small talk with this lord or that lady. “ _Just to be safe. An extra alibi or two wouldn’t hurt.”_

Then they were out of the ballroom.

“And now we wait,” Sansa said.

“And now we wait.” Petyr gave his wife a rare genuine smile before offering her his arm. “Shall we take a look around our future home Lady Baelish?”

Sansa gave a sinister smile and took the offered arm, “I think we should. Maybe see if we can find the bedroom first milord?”

~~

“Where did they go?” Willas asked frantically. He had spotted the couple during the waltz but now no one could see them.

“They can’t have just disappeared” Harry insisted.

“Could they have left?” Myranda suggested.

“They must’ve, I don’t see a red-head anywhere and she’s not easy to miss.”

“Something’s going to happen, _soon._ We have to find them. They can’t have gone too far.”

“Where do you suggest we start Willas? There are over 500 rooms in this palace.”

“Well let’s start by getting out of this bloody ballroom.”

They decided four people moving in a group would cause too much attention. Clegane exited first, followed a few minutes by Willas who made a stop at the buffet table first, and lastly Myranda and Harry who departed under the impression of Myranda growing faint and needing air.

The four found themselves in a very long empty hallway.

“Well. Let’s get started, they can’t have gone too far.” They started to go further down the hallway when a scream erupted from the ballroom followed by a large noise.

“Go,” Clegane said to the other three, “I’ll find them.” Harry entwined his hand with Myranda’s and the pair took off, Willas lingered a moment. Sansa meant so much to his partner, he was afraid he might do something too rash. “Promise you won’t-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tyrell,” Clegane said, reading his mind. “I’m a policeman too, I know the rules. Now go, people might need your help. I can handle Baelish myself.”

~~

Daenerys followed Jorah through the crowd. To be honest she wasn’t sure why. She’d given him her answer. _No._ But somehow she just couldn’t let their marriage end like this. She needed something more amiable. And for the life of her she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Jorah had been with her at lowest, maybe she just felt sorry for him. Whatever the reason she needed it.

It wasn’t until she saw him going into the library that Dany realized he wanted to talk to her as well. This filled her with confidence. Perhaps they really could end their marriage on good terms.

“I will ask you one more time,” He said when they were alone. His back was to her, but Dany could hear the begging in his voice. “Let’s give it one last try Daenerys.”

Dany felt her heart break, “Jorah I _can’t._ Please don’t make me say it again. I can’t take it. Hurting you over and over.” She reached for his shoulder, but he shrugged her off before turning to her, anger etched in his face.

“Why did you marry me then?” He demanded. “Why didn’t you marry your precious cousin after Drogo died?”

Tears were tricking down Dany’s face. “I wanted to love you Jorah, I wanted to love you the way you loved me. After Drogo died I couldn’t even contemplate loving anyone that way again, but you…” She smiled up at him even though the tears kept coming. “You loved me so much, I _truly_ believed that I would grow to love you the same way. You were my dearest friend how could I not?” Her smile disappeared. “But we don’t choose who we love, Jorah. I wanted to love you, I did, but-“

“Dany is-Oh forgive me.” Jon burst into the library. Daenerys wiped her face and turned to him.

“Isn’t this just perfect?” Jorah said, the hate evident in his voice. “I can’t even have a damn private conversation with _my_ wife without you bursting in.”

“From what I understand she won’t be your wife much longer,” Jon had barely gotten the last sentence out before Jorah punched him square in the nose.

“Jorah!” Dany screamed and rushed to Jon’s side.

“You damn royalty think you can take whatever you want, have whoever you want and you choose to destroy my life.”

“Jorah _please-_ “

“Why does a person like that deserve to be king? Someone who thinks they can do whatever he wants?” Jorah continued as if he hadn’t heard Dany.

A chill came over her and she tightened her grip on Jon’s shoulder. Jon’s hand was holding his nose, but he was just as concerned as his lover. Jorah was talking madness.

“I was talking to your cousin, Lord Baelish and he gave me an excellent idea.”

The pair exchanged a glance. “Baelish?” Dany asked. “We barely know him, why would-“

“If I walk away from our marriage, what do I have? Nothing. I’m already a laughing stock.” Jorah reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small vial.

Dany’s heart sank. “Jorah,” She said in a shaky voice. “Is that-“

“Wildfire? Yes, it is. I considered just planting it somewhere and getting away, but what would I live for?” Jorah pulled a small matchbox out with the other hand. “This way we all get punished.”

Daenerys rose to her feet and pulled Jon with her. She could make him see reason “This is your king, Jorah, you can’t actually be telling me that you are-“

But it was too late, Jorah had already lit the match and taken the lid off the vial. Dany lunged forward without a second though, but in the next instance everything was in flames.

~~

They didn’t make it to a bedroom. Petyr had Sansa pinned against the wall, his hand halfway up her dress and his mouth at her neck. Sansa’s hand was in Petyr’s hair, while the other one was fumbling with his trousers.

That’s the position Clegane found them in a few moments later, the larger man let out a growl and the couple jumped apart at the noise.

“Sandor,” Sansa breathed, there was a moment of pure shock before she tried to put herself back in order. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Saving you from _him_.” Sandor lunged at Baelish, who took several steps backwards in order to avoid the larger man. Sansa threw herself in between them.

“No!” She placed her hands on Sandor’s shoulders and gently pushed him backwards. The pair locked eyes. “He’s my husband, please. Don’t. For me.” She truly cared for Sandor and she hadn’t planned on him being there. She knew Willas would probably show up, and Myranda and Harry, but her conscious could deal with them. They were working against her and her husband because it was the _right_ thing to do. But Sandor’s true motivations were his affections for her. She couldn’t bring herself to be the reason he died and she knew Petyr would kill him, or have him killed, with no hesitation. She had to at least try.

Sandor considered her words, but one glance at the smirk on Baelish’s face and he couldn’t. This monster had to die.

“I’m sorry, little bird, but I’m doing this for you.” Sandor pulled Sansa behind him before pulling out his gun, aiming it right at Baelish.

Sansa felt tears sting her eyes. “No, I’m sorry.” This caused Sandor to look back at the redhead, gun still aimed at Baelish.

Sansa held a small handgun that had been hidden in the pocket she’d sewn into her dress.

“What are you doing?” Sandor’s hand faltered a little as his attention began to refocus on Sansa. Baelish took this chance and began to slowly inch forward.

“I’ve realized something, Sandor,” Sansa had her gun aimed at Sandor and she was working her way in between her husband and her lover. “I spent so long suffering under the Lannisters, and no one did anything to help me.” At this point Baelish had stopped moving as well, as both men were intrigued with the woman situated between them. “Then finally I was married off so they had no need to worry about me. And I was angry, oh God I was so angry. They murdered every member of my family before making me part of theirs, no matter how distant a relation I was one of them. And I couldn’t stand that. I was going to kill myself. Did you know that?”

“Little bird-“

“But he stopped me,” She lowered the gun and turned to Petyr who was still a few feet behind her. “He told me what he was doing and he asked me to help him.” Sansa didn’t miss the look of pride on Petyr’s face. “He asked me to help destroy the people that destroyed my family.” She turned back to Sandor with a pleading face. “How could I say no to that Sandor?”

He looked like a broken man. “You’ve been helping him? This whole time? You’ve been leading us on and helping _him_.”

“Yes, I have.”

“ _Why?”_ Sandor begged, taking several steps towards Sansa and lightly grasping her shoulders.

“Revenge,” She answered simply. “Revenge, power...and love…” She reached up and stroked Sandor’s cheek with her free hand. “Most recently my main motivation has been love.”

“Sweetling,” Petyr called behind her in a threatening tone. Sansa knew how jealous he could be.

She broke away from Sandor and turned towards her husband. She watched his face contort from anger to shock to fear as she aimed her gun. “I’m so so sorry my love.” Without another word, she pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!


	20. A Mockingbird Sings

_25 Years Later_

 

“God save the King!”

Sansa felt her hear swell as she watched her son be crowned king. Everything she had worked for, all the people she killed, it had led her to this moment. Antony sat tall on the throne, every bit his father’s son. Sansa would recognize that smirk anywhere. Antony looked the spitting image of Petyr, with the exception of his dark red hair and stunning blue eyes. Sansa smiled broadly. _Her son_ was king. She now understood Cersei Lannister a little better than she had. She still hated the dead woman with every fiber of her being, but she understood her now. She understood the pride of watching your children, of watching everyone bow to the most precious thing in your life, the willingness to do absolutely _anything_ to protect them. Even if it meant destroying someone who meant the world to you. Yes she could understand that very well.

Sansa felt her heart sink just a little bit. She was still wracked with guilt. He was the only person she’d actually murdered with her own two hands. He haunted her in a way. _Petyr forgive me._ She _had_ loved him. She believed Petyr had always known it. Her love for Petyr had been dark and twisted and _wonderful_ … but her love for Sandor had been something else. Something she still couldn’t explain. She’d never told her children about it. No in their eyes she’d only ever loved their father. They didn’t need to know. But she would never forget the look of utter and complete heartbreak on his face when she pulled the trigger. It was not an emotion he ever showed and it would haunt Sansa to her dying day.

_“I’m so so sorry my love”. Sansa turned to face Petyr and she could see him panic for a moment, believing he was her intended target, but then she turned back to Sandor._

_“Little bird-“ But she pulled the trigger. Blood began to slowly drain from Sandor Clegane’s heart._

When they were found shortly there after, Petyr put on a brilliant show, claiming Clegane had attacked his wife and she had only acted in self-defense. Sansa was only able to nod. They were then told that Jorah Mormont had caused an explosion of wildfire, killing himself, his wife, and the newly crowned King Jon. No one else had been killed, but nearly everyone who had been in the ballroom had been injured. Petyr was King of England now.

Little Alayne had been born a few months after their coronation. Petyr had been every inch the proud father. Not caring in the least that it was a girl and not a boy. Two years later was Antony, followed by the twins, Nina and Vincent, two more over the next two years, Christine and Christopher. Their brood certainly kept the palace nannies busy, but Petyr and Sansa always made time for their children. Sansa had insisted no more children after Christine had been born, but she’d fallen pregnant again not long after. Petyr had laughed when she told him and she’d chucked a vase at his head. After Christopher was born, she’d been adamant about it and had taken precautions against pregnancy; sometimes even rebuffing Petyr’s advances entirely, much to his chagrin. Inevitably though, the pair couldn’t keep their hands off each other and the result was Marcus and finally Katryna. Sansa had spent half of her co-reign pregnant, something Petyr had been _immensely_ amused by. Petyr had loved all his children dearly, but there had been a particular bond with Arina as she was the youngest. Sansa also suspected that it was they’d nearly lost her at birth due to a complication.

Sansa wished Petyr was here to for this. She missed him every day. Her heart ached just thinking about it. He would’ve loved this. Seeing his child on the throne, seeing the beginnings of their dynasty. Their children were slowly filling the royal houses of all of Europe.

Sansa glanced over at her eldest child. Alayne was Antony’s senior by two years and Sansa was sure she was the tiniest bit jealous of her brother. She was enough like Sansa to know making a fuss was pointless, but had inherited more of Petyr’s traits. Alayne may have had Sansa’s looks, but her fathers mind. She was the perfect combination of the two of them and that meant she would have wanted the throne for herself. However, Sansa had arranged a match with Arianne Martell’s son. Quentyn Oakheart was a sweet boy and Alayne liked him very much. Though the prospect of being Queen of Spain may have something to do with that. Nonetheless, watching her younger brother being crowned King of England, certainly must’ve stung a bit. After Alayne was born Petyr had wanted to change the law so she could inherit the throne, but their had been too much of a backlash and he’d had to relent.

Sansa and Petyr had ruled England together for 25 years. 25 wonderful years. People had been very skeptical when her husband ascended the throne, but he had proven to be a benevolent ruler and it wasn’t long before the people loved him. She remembered the smirk he had given at their coronation during the cheers of “God save the King” and “God save the Queen”, no one had any idea of the blood on their hands. No one knew how many people they had murdered to get where they were.

Well. Almost no one.

The pair had made sure Lord and Lady Hardyng, as well as Willas Tyrell were in attendance. Petyr in particular wanted the trio to see him crowned king. They had failed and he had succeeded.

 _Oh Petyr I wish you could see this_. Petyr had fallen ill early last year, Sansa hadn’t been too concerned, he wasn’t _very_ old and he’d fought off illness before. The doctor had confirmed that she had nothing to worry about, but weeks had gone by and there was no change in his condition. The first time he coughed up blood Sansa realized the end was in sight for her husband. She’d told the children herself, they has been just as distraught as she was.

_“Will he make it to my birthday?” Katryna asked quietly. Sansa felt her heartbreak in her chest._

_“I don’t know my love,” Her youngest daughter’s birthday was the following month and they always had a big celebration._

_“Can we see him?” Nina questioned._

_“Tomorrow, he’s resting now. Now off to bed,” Sansa closed the door behind her children. She leaned against the door for a moment and fought off the tears that were threating. She took a deep breath before making her way from her dressing room to the bedroom she still shared with her husband._

_He was sitting up, but he still looked awful. His normally combed back hair was a mess, he was considerably paler than usual and he was sweating quite a bit._

_“Did you tell them?” He asked weakly._

_Sansa nodded before crawling into bed and wrapping her arms around him, head resting on his chest._

_“Katryna asked if you would make it to her birthday.”_

_“I don’t think I-“ A coughing fit interrupted his speech; Sansa tightened her grip on him. “I don’t think I have that long sweetling,” He wheezed._

_“Please try Petyr,” Sansa whispered. “I’m not ready to lose you.”_

_“I shall try my love,”_

By some miracle he had made it to Katryna’s birthday. They had been very careful, Sansa had taken full control of the country, Petyr never left his bed and somehow, he made it. Sansa had tried to get him into a wheelchair for the party, but it had been too much. As a result the family had had a small party in the bedroom. It wasn’t ideal for any of them, but they all knew it was the last birthday their father would see. Petyr had gifted Katryna with her own mockingbird pin, a present he had gifted each child on their 13th birthday, but it was no less special. They’d had an informal, relatively simple dinner in the room, relishing in what very well might be their last time all together. When the evening came to an end, it was very melancholy. That night Sansa had curled up next to her husband praying, not for the first time, that when she woke up the next morning he would still be alive.

Petyr had lived several more weeks, but his fever became increasingly worse. The last week had brought on fits and seizures.

“ _Petyr, Petyr it’s me,” Sansa gripped his shoulders, hoping to calm him._

_“Cat? Cat is that you?”_

_Sansa’s heart sank. This wasn’t the first time he had called her by her mother’s name, it had been going on for days and it stung._

_“Petyr its Sansa.” The seizing was passing. Sansa stroked his cheek. “It’s your wife, my love.”_

_Petyr reached up and grasped her hand. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long, but you’re too late, Cat. I love someone else now.”_

_“Oh Petyr,” Sansa didn’t realize she was crying until a tear dripped onto her hand._

_“Don’t cry Cat,” He reached up and cupped her face. “You have Ned…And I have Sansa.”_

_“Petyr-“_

_“Don’t be angry, she loves me too, I promise she does.”_

_“Petyr-“_

_“We have children, Cat, eight beautiful children. You would love them. You do forgive me for loving your daughter don’t you?”_

_“Petyr it’s me!” Sansa was trying to choke back her tears and failing. “It’s me…” She buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow. It was silent for several moments till finally she felt Petyr begin to stroke her hair._

_“Don’t cry my love,”_

_Sansa’s neck snapped up. “Petyr do you know who I am?”_

_Her husband gave her an odd look. “What a ridiculous question. You are my beautiful wife, the mother of my children, oh and my queen.” Petyr pulled Sansa fully on top of him and rested his hands on her lower back. “And of course, you are the woman who helped me murder half my family to become queen. But mostly, you’re the woman I love.”_

_Sansa threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “I love you so much Petyr Baelish.”_

_Petyr kissed the side of her head. “I don’t know what’s brought this one, but I’m hardly complaining.”_

_Sansa looked up, “Do you not remember?”_

_“Remember what?”_

_“You have been calling me Cat for the last few days, my love.”_

_Petyr winced, “Deepest apologies my love.”_

_“Mm I forgive you,” Sansa gave him a quick kiss before rolling off of him._

_In the middle of the night Sansa awoke to Petyr seizing. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. She held him down to avoid him hurting himself. This time felt different though._ Something’s wrong _a chilling voice said. Sansa leaned over and turned the light on._

_She screamed._

_Blood had started to drip from her husband’s eye._ This is it; I’m going to watch him die.

_“Sansa…” He gasped before his eyes rolled back into his head._

_“Petyr? Petyr!?”_

_Suddenly there was a banging on the door, “Your Grace?! We heard a scream.”_

_Sansa felt the tears pour down her face. “It’s the king…he’s dead.”_

Sansa shook her head. She couldn’t think about Petyr right now. Her son was king that’s what was important. She glanced at the green mockingbird banner that was hanging from the ceiling. This is what matter. Her legacy. _Petyr’s_ legacy. This is what they’d worked for. Their son was King of England, their daughter would be Queen of Spain and who knew what the future held for their other children. _Greatness no doubt_ She thought.

“Your father would be so proud of you,” She told Antony later that day. “He’d be so proud of all of you.” They still had an hour before the ball to celebrate Antony’s ascent to the throne began and Sansa had insisted all her children see her before hand. They were all sitting or standing around Sansa’s dressing room. Sansa herself was sitting on the chair next to the window, looking around at all of them. Alayne was on her immediate right and Antony was on her left.

“I miss him,” Christine murmured.

“So do I love,” Sansa looked at her children. Some of them had her red hair or blue eyes, others had Petyr’s dark features. Some were a clear combination of the two of them. Alayne had always been her father’s daughter through and through, Antony had inherited some of Sansa’s quiet scheming. Nina and Vincent complimented each other, as twins often did. Nina was quiet and bookish, but her wit was sharp and she was exceedingly clever. Vincent liked to play the fool, but he picked up on everything. And the younger four were still growing into their personalities. The one trait all her children shared was ambition. They all wanted the world and they were in the perfect position to get it.

“ _With my wits and your beauty the world will be hers.”_ Petyr had said that when Alayne was three days old. _You were right my love, but then again I suppose you always were._

“None of you have any idea how hard your father and I worked to be here.” Her children gave her an odd look, but she smiled. “One day I’ll tell you, I promise…but today?” She grasped Alayne’s hand. “Today we’re going to dance and celebrate this victory.”

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks! I do hope you enjoyed this fic, I certainly had fun writing it. I'm gonna try to finish "Pretty Lies" this week as well (if you haven't read that go take a gander please). However I am thinking about writing another fic in this universe focusing on this brood (featuring PxS flashbacks of course).
> 
> Thanks for feeding my love for these two!

**Author's Note:**

> So have any of you seen Shanghai Knights? Its a great movie. Not only is Jackie Chan the hero, but our own Aiden Gillen plays the villain! Yes that's where I got this idea.


End file.
